


The Wedding

by Squid Squad (TerminalMiraculosis)



Series: Operation 24 [7]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Next up in: Three just wants to take a nap, There is violence but I wouldn't say it's graphic, Wedding, i can't think of any more tags guys, idk just read the story now i guess, im a failure, the series - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-08-13 00:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20165266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminalMiraculosis/pseuds/Squid%20Squad
Summary: Marina's wedding has been a long time coming, but the day she marries Pearl has finally arrived. And it's going to be perfect, or so help her god, Marina will burn down the entire city. That's why she's enlisted the help of her friends to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible; theyaresecret agents, after all. With their assistance, the whole event will surely go off without a hitch.In unrelated news, there have been multiple failed kidnapping attempts on Octolings in the past few months. But that's neither here nor there.





	1. Invitation Only

Four adjusted the trophies in her trophy case, trying to center them perfectly. Fresh Ink had been on a roll lately, and Four was actually running low on trophy space. It was a good problem to have, and a very fun problem to sarcastically complain to Three about, but it was still bothering her. 

See, she had five trophies on the top shelf, but the two tallest ones were both the same height, which meant she couldn’t put the tallest one in the middle. She could, hypothetically, put the tall ones on either end, but that would make a weird reverse-pyramid shape and she was _ not _ about that.

A sudden knock at her door threatened to split her attention, so with a sigh, she left the trophies as they were. “Coming!” Four shouted, rushing over to her apartment door. 

It was Pearl. She greeted Four with a finger gun, a ‘sup,’ and a magenta envelope that was shoved into Four’s hands.

“What’s this?” Four asked, grabbing the letter.

“It’s a wedding invitation!” Pearl said. “‘Cause I’m getting married!”

“Oh, right," Four said. “Cool!”

“Also, can I ask you a quick favor?”

“Sure.”

“Would you be my maid of honor?”

“Wait, what?” Four asked, eyes wide. “I mean, I'm flattered, but I didn't expect to be your first choice.”

Pearl shrugged. “I'm an only child, dude, and Marina already stole Eight.”

“Well, what about Three then, right? Hasn't she gotten pretty close with you guys as your daughter-in-law or whatever?”

“Okay, one, don't call Three my daughter-in-law, that's fucking weird. Two, I did ask her, and she said she'd rather die than wear a dress that matches mine.”

“Would I have to wear a dress that matches yours?” Four asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Pearl scratched the back of her head. “It would be preferable, yeah.”

“Alright, sure,” Four relented. “I'm great at matching outfits anyway.”

“Oh thank god,” Pearl said. “Because I'm fucking awful at it.”

“Don't worry, I got you,” Four assured. 

“Thanks,” Pearl smiled. “Oh, actually, speaking of Three…” Pearl pulled out a second envelope and handed it to Four. “Could you give this to her? I have no idea where to find her.”

Four raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried calling her?”

Pearl rolled her eyes. “We were all eating out together one time on a double date, and she saw me eat mayo straight from the packet, so she blocked my number. She still hasn’t unblocked me, and it’s been, like, a week.”

Four made a face of pure disgust. “Pearl… what…”

“Don’t judge me, okay! It’s fucking good!” Pearl shouted, throwing out her hands. “Look, just… get the invitation to her, please?”

“Uh, yeah,” Four said. “Sure thing.”

* * *

Three threw open the doors to the museum in a huff and hurried over to the employee area. She leaned over the computer and entered her employee ID into the attendance tracker, her name popping up on the screen along with the time she’d clocked in. 

“Good morning, Amy.”

She tilted her head to see her boss, Carl, standing a few feet off, coffee in hand. Three _ loved _ Carl. What a guy. 

“Morning,” she greeted.

“Say, can I talk to you for a second?”

Three nodded, moving away from the computer and leaning against the table. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“So, one of our guests filed a complaint against you yesterday. I’m just checking in to see if you know what that’s about?”

“Hmm.”

* * *

Three gestured to the display in front of her. “So, as you can see, it’s believed that with the proper thrust, it would be possible for such a ship to breach the planet’s atmosphere and enter outer space. Unfortunately, this would take a massive amount of fuel, more than could be provided from zapfish, and the current environmental laws prevent scientists from using nonrenewable energy, because as I said earlier, any further agitation to the environment could cause sea levels to rise even further, endangering civilization as we know it.

“And on that note, that’s the end of the tour. Any questions?”

One guy in the front raised his hand. Three nodded towards him.

“Are you single?” he asked. “‘Cause I like a smart girl, you know.”

“So do I,” Three said without missing a beat. “Unfortunately, you don’t fit either qualification.”

“Ha! Got ‘em!” said some kid, who was quickly shushed by his mother.

“Anyway,” Three said with a roll of her eyes, “any _ actual _ questions?”

* * *

“No idea,” Three said.

Carl bobbed his head up and down and took a sip of his coffee. “Right, right. Nah, it’s cool, it happens. Unfortunately, this is your third one this month, so I gotta, like, supervise one of your tours now to make sure everything’s chill. Company policy, you feel?”

“Yes,” Three said slowly. “I feel.”

“Coolio.”

He wandered off back towards the coffee machine, so Three just shrugged and left to go wait by the front desk. Hopefully whatever tour he ended up latching onto would be relatively tame.

* * *

When Pearl left, Four placed the envelope on her desk, pulled out her phone, and began scrolling through her contacts. But just before she hit ‘Three,’ she passed by ‘Ricky,’ and her mind began scheming subconsciously.

She should probably just call Three and keep it simple, but… a little google search wouldn’t hurt, right? 

She turned to her laptop, opened a new tab, and typed ‘Danny Danalov’ into the bar. It had been a while ago since that conversation they had had after the tournament, but Four made it a point not to forget what little information Three let slip about herself. Also, Danny Danalov was a hard name to forget.

She watched with bated breath as the page loaded. She probably wouldn’t find anything useful, and—oh, wait, nope, there was his Squidstagram. She clicked, and couldn’t help herself as her eyes drifted to a selfie he had taken, and the work uniform he had been wearing at the time.

“P. R. Hana Science Museum,” Four said, her mouth turning up at the corners. “Found ya.”

* * *

Three approached the tour group, Carl following behind her looking bored out of his mind. She couldn’t blame him. 

“Hello, and welcome to the P. R. Hana Science Museum. I’m Amy, and I’ll be your tour guide today. Prepare yourselves for the technological marvels of modern day Inkopolis.” Someone snickered towards the back of the group, but Three ignored it. For one, she agreed that the opening line was dumb as fuck, and also, her boss was literally standing right there. “Please just come right this way, and—”

Was.

Was that Four there in the back, giggling at her?

God damn it. Of all the fucking things.

Four winked. Three wanted to scream, and she probably would have had her boss not been standing right next to her.

“—and we’ll begin our tour!” she finished, putting on her best customer service smile and swiveling around to walk towards the first exhibit. She managed to get through her spiel on the mechanics of ink molding and its applications on sub and special weapons without looking at Four, though she could feel the girl’s eyes boring into hers.

“…And as this technology has developed over the years, we’ve been able to mold larger and more complex structures out of ink, such as the Ultra Stamp that came out earlier this year,” she finished. “Does anyone have questions?”

Nobody raised their hand—except Four.

Three nearly pulled a muscle as she stretched her mouth into a smile. “Yes?”

“So, I dunno, I was just wondering, uh…” She paused to make a big deal out of leaning forwards to read Three’s nametag. “I was just wondering, _ Amy, _ why each weapon is limited to only one sub and special when the physical components necessary for the molding are small enough that many could fit on any given weapon.”

“Ah. What a _ great question,” _ Three said, her voice as fake as Four’s curiousity. She already knew all this. “That’s due to battle regulations, and is only a function of turf wars. Many military and modified weapons have the capacity to switch between multiple different subs, and use a variety of specials. But limiting standard regulation weapons to one sub and special apiece helps balance battles, and adds variety to the sport.” And also allows Sheldon to sell five different versions of the splattershot instead of just one, but she didn’t say that. 

“Mmm, mmm, very interesting,” Four said. “So, follow up question…”

Three ground her teeth together behind her plastered-on grin. This was going to be a long tour.

* * *

The end of the tour took its sweet time in arriving, partly due to the relativity of time, and partly due to Four asking so many goddamn questions. But eventually the last display had been explained, and then elaborated upon, and the group was dispersing. 

“Cool,” said Carl. “Yeah, you’re fine. Bye.”

Three waited until he turned the corner, then reached out and grabbed Four by the collar, pulling her down until they were staring eye-to-eye.

“Hey Three,” Four said.

“Four,” Three breathed, “I swear to god, if my boss had not been there, you would currently be embedded halfway into the electromagnetism display.”

She laughed. “Look, I had to find you to give you this,” she said, holding out a letter. 

“And you couldn’t have called?” Three snatched the letter out of her grasp, and began walking back towards the museum entrance.

“Well, this was much more fun,” Four said. “You know, you make a surprisingly good tour guide.”

“It _ is _ my job,” Three said. “But yeah, I guess. I find it all somewhat interesting, which helps make talking about it more bearable. Also the exhibits change more often than you'd think, so that keeps things new.”

“Nerd.”

“Shut up.” Three looked at the letter. “What is this, anyway?”

“Wedding invitation,” Four said. “Pearl said you blocked her number?”

“Oh yeah, I did. I should probably unblock her.”

“Eh.” Four made a so-so gesture with her hand. “I mean, she _ did _ eat that mayo.”

“You know what? You’re right. One more week.”

As they approached the museum’s entrance, Four said, “Well, I should probably be heading soon. Don’t want to keep any curious tourists waiting.”

“Right. But one more thing before you go,” Three said, grabbing Four by the shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“This ‘follow me to work’ thing was cute and all, but _ please,” _ she stressed, “don’t call me by my real name. Okay?”

“What?” Four’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, sure but… why?”

Three pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s long, complicated and personal, okay? But I’d just appreciate it if you didn’t.”

Four frowned. “Hey, uh… Sorry if I shouldn’t have come today. I didn’t mean to breach your privacy or anything. Honestly, I kinda thought your whole cagey thing was, like, a really dedicated comedy schtick.”

Three sighed. “Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. Again: it’s complicated. But don’t worry about it, you’re fine. I’m getting more comfortable being open with my friends.”

“That’s good,” Four said, then smirked. “Guess I’ll have to thank Eight.”

“Yeah,” Three laughed. “You should.”

* * *

**Two weeks later: One Day Until the Wedding**

“Okay, okay,” Marina said, pacing back and forth in the middle of the living room. “Cake and flowers have been double checked, we sized the rings, we found the rings after you _ lost _ them—”

“I said I was sorry,” Pearl grumbled from the couch.

“We told Albacore how many chairs and tables we need… what about food?”

“The bakery’s gonna deliver it to the venue tomorrow,” Pearl said from the couch. “And, yes, I double checked.”

“Right.” Marina took a breath. “And Craig memorized his script?”

“I mean, I didn’t quiz him on it, but I trust the guy.”

“Alright.” Marina stopped pacing and took a breath. “Alright. I think this might work out.”

“Uh, yeah, duh,” Pearl said. “It’s gonna be the best wedding ever!”

“And you’ve prepared your vow?”

“I’m gonna wing it.”

“Pearl!”

“Hey, I want to speak from the heart, not a piece of paper!” she protested.

“But what’s wrong with _ transcribing _ the words your heart gives you ahead of time?”

“Marina, you know my lyrics are always better when I make them up in the middle of a song, not when I write them down before hand. And I want these to be the best damn lyrics I ever say!”

Marina smiled. “Aw, Pearlie… Okay. I trust you. But don’t mess it up, okay? We only get to do this once!”

Pearl shrugged. “If it goes poorly we can just get a divorce and try again, no biggie.”

“True enough,” Marina laughed. “But I’d prefer to get it right the first time.”

“Me too,” Pearl said. “And don’t worry! I know this is important, but you’ve been suuuuuuper stressed over it. You need to let yourself enjoy it. We’re getting married!”

Marina sighed, and sat down on the couch. “You’re right. I just can’t help myself! I want it to be perfect.”

Pearl took Marina’s hand in hers, and looked into her eyes. “Hey. No matter what happens, it’ll be perfect. Because we’ll be there together.”

“Yeah,” Marina agreed. “Together.”

Their lips met for what must’ve been the thousandth time by now, but it was no less amazing. On the contrary, even; it seemed to be deeper every time.

* * *

DJ Octavio watched through the warped glass as the octocopter descended from the sky, coming to a rest just in front of him. “Report, sir,” it warbled at him. “All missions to reclaim the defected Octolings remain unsuccessful. We suspect the Inkling forces are working with the traitors, and are keeping watch over the targets.”

Octavio huffed. “Typical. I can't believe we've wasted so much time on this bullshit. Say, you said that S-01-A’s dumb _ wedding _ was dropping tomorrow, right?”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Hmmph. Then maybe we should take a more direct approach.” Octavio focused and shifted into his humanoid form, shattering the glass of the snowglobe as he grew to his proper 8-foot height. “About time we take things to _ their _ turf, don’t you think?”

The octocopter seemed nervous. “With all due respect, sir, are you sure this is the best course of action?”

Octavio punched the octocopter in the face. It flew backwards and smashed into a nearby rock, splatting all over it.

“Hey! What’s going on over there!”

Octavio turned. A male Inkling in military garb was standing before him, carrying a splatbrella and looking very nervous. 

“Under orders from Captain Cuttlefish, I am not to let you leave the premises!”

Octavio reached out, grabbed his brella, and snapped it in two. “I can’t believe Craig trusted someone like _ you _ to watch over me. Ha!”

The Inkling retreated back a step. “St—stop right there!”

“Listen here, squidbreath,” Octavio said, grabbing the soldier by his neck and lifting him up to eye level. “If I hear that any alarm has been raised once I get out of here, I’ll track your sorry ass down and mash you up so hard that next time you’re not gonna respawn. Understand, punk?”

He nodded. 

“Good.” Octavio then hurled him off the edge of the cliffside, sending him tumbling towards the depths of Octo Canyon. He contemplated destroying the spawn point just to be sure, but he didn’t think that would be necessary. That kind of threat usually did the trick.

He cracked his knuckles as he approached the grate that led to Inkopolis. Time to have some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey howdy, folks! Thanks for dropping by!
> 
> As you can see by the chapter count, this is a beefier one. As such, I'm going to be updating twice a week instead of the usual once a week, on both Thursdays and Sundays. See you then!


	2. Setup and Punchline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the wedding, and it's up to the New Squidbeak Splatoon to help set it up.

Three let out a breath as the automatic doors to New Albacore Hotel slid open before her. The wedding wouldn’t begin until two, which wasn’t for another, like, four hours, but the others would start showing up to get everything set up at around nine, and Three wanted to make sure the venue was fan-free before they got here. According to Eight, Marina was super fucking stressed about the whole thing, so the last thing she needed was a bunch of teenagers begging for her autograph while she tried to get everything in order.

She looked down at her phone. “Let’s see… ballroom 3.” That seemed like far too many ballrooms for a single hotel, if Three were being perfectly candid, but what did she know? She was just security.

After briefly contemplating asking the clerk at the front desk for help and then googling the hotel’s floor plan instead, Three found herself wandering up and down some big important hallway and scouring the plaques on each door. 

“No… no… no… goddammit, it should be right here!”

“Oh, hey, are you looking for ballroom 3?”

Three turned to see some kid standing on the other side of the hall. He had on a pair of fake glasses, which was an unbelievably stupid fashion trend that Four had tried and failed to explain to her many times, and some weird… jacket… vest…  _ thing _ that looked absolutely atrocious, but was  _ also _ an unbelievably stupid fashion trend that Four had fruitlessly tried to justify to her once or twice, except more recently. 

“Yes,” Three said, miraculously refraining from insulting his clothes.

“Yeah, the online map is, like, super outdated. That’s it over there.” He pointed down the hall back the way Three had come, except on the other side. “Are you also here to meet Off the Hook?”

Three looked at him. Oh. Yeah, that checked out. “Not exactly,” she said, walking towards the ballroom. 

“Oh.” The boy frowned. “Wait, then why are you here so early?”

“Because I’m security for the wedding.”

He went as pale as Pearl. “O-oh.”

“Yeah. So, tell me, were you invited to this incredibly private wedding?”

“Well, erm…”

“Mmhmm,” Three said as she reached the ballroom doors. “Maybe you should leave, then.”

He ran off, and Three rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long day if fans were showing up this early. This is what happened when you gave live updates on your wedding planning on Squidstagram. Like, she knew that Off the Hook liked to be public on social media, but seriously?

Three pulled out her splattershot and leaned back against the ballroom doors, but as she put pressure one of them, it creaked open.

They.

They weren’t locked.

Why weren’t the doors locked.

“Oh, fuck this,” Three said once she looked into the room. All over the ground, there were collapsible tents set up, and Three could see people of all different ages and species lounging around, most of them decked out in Off the Hook merch. 

Three walked into the center of the ballroom, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted. “HEY! LOSERS! THIS IS A PRIVATE WEDDING!”

“Woah, step off, bro,” said a crab who was poking his head out of a red, crab-shaped tent. “We’re just chillin’ here waiting for our favorite band, yo. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah! Why should we listen to you?” called some Inkling woman a few tents over.

Three raised her splattershot. “Because I’m head of security for the wedding and also because I’m armed.”

“What are you gonna do?” asked a crayfish. “Shoot us?”

“Yes,” Three said, then began firing her splattershot around erratically, making sure she didn’t actually hit anyone. “Leave! LEEEEAVE!”

“Jeez, okay, okay!” the crayfish said. “Just let me pack up my tent.”

Three groaned. This was a nightmare.

* * *

As they entered the hotel lobby, Pearl and Marina were almost bowled over by a group of jellies rushing out the doors.

“Well sheesh,” Pearl said, glaring over her shoulder at them. “Someone’s in a hurry.”

Then a burst bomb flew past her face and slammed against the ground, right at the heels of the jellies. “And  _ stay _ out!” Three yelled, waving her splattershot at them as they fled. Then she noticed Pearl and Marina standing there and looking at her funny. “Oh, hey.”

“Three?” Marina asked. “What are you doing?”

“Securing,” she explained. “Your fans are really annoying.”

Marina pursed her lips. “Well, I wouldn’t say  _ annoy—” _

“Oh my god tell me about it,” Pearl said, rolling her eyes. “Fucking greatest and worst thing to ever happen to me.”

“Okay, well, yes,” Marina said with a sigh. “They can be a bit dedicated, but—”

“They were camping out in the ballroom.”

“They can be a bit  _ obsessed,” _ Marina amended, “but they’re honestly quite sweet. We don’t have as widespread a fanbase as the Squid Sisters do or anything, but the fans we do have are very loyal.”

“Well, despite their unending loyalty, I managed to clear them out for you,” Three said, walking them out of the lobby and down a few winding hallways. “So you should be good to start setting things up.”

“Nice,” Pearl said. “Hey, uh, thanks, Three. For helping out and shit.”

“Yes, it was very kind of you to offer,” Marina said. “We could’ve just gotten our normal security guys, but it’ll be nice to keep things within our little circle before the wedding starts for real.”

“Plus you’re really good at scaring people away, apparently,” Pearl said.

“It’s one of my passions.” They had reached the ballroom by now, and Three paused at the doors. “Welp. See you later. Call me if you need me to, like, lift a table or something, I don’t know. Or if some shithead sneaks in through the air ducts.”

“It’s funny you think that’s a joke,” Marina said, rolling her eyes.

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Pearl said. “We’ll get you if we need you. Thanks again!”

* * *

Captain Cuttlefish and the Squid Sisters were the next to arrive, and they were already dressed in their fancy formal attire: Callie and Marie had on matching blue/green dresses, and the Captain was sporting an awful lime tux that was sure to give Four an aneurysm once she arrived. 

“Hey gramps,” Three greeted.

“Howdy, Agent 3!” Cuttlefish said, clamping a hand down on Three’s shoulder. She shrugged it off. “Things going well with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Three said. “Hey, are there any updates on that whole ‘attempted kidnappings’ thing?”

He shook his head. “I told you, Three, I was only asked to help that one week. It’s not under our agency’s jurisdiction.”

“You’ve still been sneaking looks at the report files, though, right?”

“Well, yes,” he chuckled. “There haven’t been any recently, to answer your question.”

“We just got back from recon, actually,” Marie droned, pulling the head of a charger up the back of her dress to demonstrate, then pushing it back down. “The Domes seem very loosely defended right now, which might mean troops are being organized elsewhere.”

“No clue where, though,” Callie said with a shrug. “We’re thinking we might try to see if Octavio knows anything once we all get back to the cabin. Plus, the less time we leave Lieutenant Gill on watch duty, the better.”

“Okay whatever,” Three said. “More importantly, are you guys seriously hiding your weapons in your fucking dresses?”

“Where else should we hide them?” Marie asked. “It’s not like anybody will notice. We’ve done it on stage before; we’re very good at it.”

“It’s weird.”

“You’re weird,” Callie said.

“Please stop fighting,” Captain Cuttlefish said.

Callie rolled her eyes. “Fine. But only for you, Gramps.”

“Oh my god!” shouted a young Inkling a ways down the hall. Three took note of her Off the Hook t-shirt and groaned. “You’re the Squid Sisters! Wow!”

“Fuck,” Marie declared.

“Get inside,” Three said despondently, opening the door with her heel. “I’ll handle it.”

“Thanks, Three,” Callie said.

“We won’t forget your sacrifice,” Marie added.

“Yeah, yeah.”

* * *

“Oh, hey,” Three said as a pair of Inklings walked up to the ballroom door. “Charger, Slosher; how’s it—wait.” She frowned. “Were you guys even invited?” 

“Meagan and Leo,” Slosher said. Three didn't know why she still tried correcting her.

“We’re with Eight and Lynn,” Charger clarified. “They had to come here straight from one of our practices, and Lynn asked if we wanted to tag along. So we did.”

“Huh. Where are Eight and Four, then?”

“They’ll be here in just a second. More importantly, what are you doing here, Three?” Slosher asked. “If that even is your real name.”

“I'm working security. And I said that you get to  _ ask _ me a question when you splat me during training—I never said anything about answering honestly.”

“I kind of figured that was the case when you said that your social security number was 69,” Charger said.

Three rolled her eyes. “That one was Slosher’s fault for asking such a dumb question.”

“It was the most personal question I could think of!” she defended. 

“Wait, shut up,” Three said, putting out a hand. “Here come the people that were actually invited, and aren't just abusing their friendship with the maids of honor to sneak in.”

“Um, Lynn offered,” Charger mumbled. Three ignored him.

“Hey guys!” Eight said, running down the hall. Four was right at her side, and both of them were lugging around all of Fresh Ink’s weapons and ink tanks. Eight quickly shoved her load into Four’s arms, though, and ran up to Three. They wrapped their arms around each other, and closed in to share a kiss.

“Hey Eight,” Three said once they parted. 

“Sorry, I’m all sweaty from practice,” Eight giggled.

Three smiled. “It’ll take more than that to stop me.”

“Ugh, get a room,” Four said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have wingmanned you two so hard if I knew you’d be this disgusting.”

Meagan and Leo, on the other hand, were staring. “You two are  _ dating?!” _ Meagan exclaimed.

Eight turned. “You didn't know?”

“No!” Leo said. “What? I'm—I'm so confused.”

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Three said.

Meagan fumbled. “But Eight’s so nice!” 

“Three’s nice,” Eight argued.

“Yeah, Slosher,” Three teased. “I’m nice.”

“You know what? Whatever,” Meagan said, throwing her hands in the air. “Can we go inside now?”

“Yeah,” Four said. “Pearl and Marina could probably use the help. And remember: be chill.”

* * *

“Oh my god look! Meg! It’s Off the Hook!” Leo whispered excitedly, elbowing Meagan in the side.

“And that’s the Squid Sisters over there!” Meagan exclaimed. “Lynn, you didn’t say anything about  _ them!” _

“Oh yeah,” Four said, rubbing the back of her head. “I kind of forget that they’re celebrities sometimes. Yeah, I’m friends with them too.”

“Lynn what the  _ fuck,” _ Meagan hissed.

“Guys, I said be chill!” Four insisted. She hoped neither of them would ask for an autograph or anything. That’d be  _ so _ embarrassing.

“Oh, great! You guys are here!” Pearl greeted, walking over to them and setting down a box by a stack of other boxes. “Could you set up some tables against the wall and put these pastries on them? Make them look all fancy and shit.”

“Sure,” Eight said. 

“Oh, hey, you guys are Four’s teammates, right?” Pearl asked.

“I, um, yeah,” Leo stammered. 

Meagan proved to be much more articulate. “Hi! I’m Meagan, and this is Leo.”

“Dope,” Pearl said. “Well, see ya.”

Once she had wandered off, Meagan and Leo turned to each other and broke into wild grins. “Oh my god she spoke to us!” Leo cried.

“I  _ know, _ right?!” Meagan said. “Do you think I could sneak a selfie without them noticing?”

“You could just ask,” Eight suggested. 

“Oh, not a chance,” Meagan said quickly.

“Way too much anxiety,” Leo said.

“ARRRGH!!” someone screamed from over by the stage.  _ “JASK _ NEW ALBACORE!”

Four watched as Marina looked out over the sea of folding chairs and just about ripped her tentacles out.

Pearl sighed. “What is it this time, babe?” she called.

“There aren’t enough  _ CHAIRS!” _ Marina screeched. “Were, like, ten short! Those cheap whores!”

“Woah there,” Four mumbled.

“She’s just stressed,” Eight assured.

“I think I saw some down that back hallway when I was picking up the pastries,” Pearl said, pointing towards a discreet door at the back of the ballroom. “I can go get some if you want.”

“NO! I need you here,” Marina said. “Who’s not important?” Her eyes scanned the room, finally settling on their group. “You two! Go get chairs!” she commanded, pointing two threatening fingers at Meagan and Leo.

“Er, yes ma’am,” Meagan said, grabbing Leo by the wrist and power walking over to the door.

“Uh, how many do you need?” Leo asked as he was dragged along.

“As many as you can carry!” Marina demanded. “And you two! Four, Eight! I’m not seeing any pastries on that table, young ladies!”

“On it!” Four called, rushing over to the boxes. “Man. I forgot how scary she can get.”

Eight laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”

* * *

“Okay, what the fuck is this?” Three asked, looking up and down at the figure before her. It was tall—more than a couple feet taller than her—and wearing a trench coat, hat, and sunglasses. “Did you really think this would work? You’re clearly just a bunch of kids who thought they could sneak in and see their favorite band. Well, sorry, but if you weren’t invited, I can’t let you—”

Suddenly, The figure moved, and Three found a fist adorned with shiny brass knuckles coming straight at her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have to say, I think this is the best chapter title I've ever had.


	3. Wedding Crashers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavio was called The Huge Octoling Trasher (or THOT for short) back in college, and now he's here to trash Off the Hook's wedding. If only these annoying agents would stop trying to stop him.

“Shit!” Three spat, raising her arms in a block just in time to catch the punch. It slammed into her forearms, and the brass knuckles dug into her skin; that was gonna leave a mark. The sheer force of the punch drove her back a few yards, the soles of her boots screaming against the tile. As she lowered her guard, she noticed that there was a trail of purple ink along the ground extending out from his punch, and she could feel it sizzling on the back of her arms where he’d connected, too. Were those brass knuckles an ink weapon? Who the hell was this guy?

She grabbed for her shooter, but the trenchcoated figure kicked at her ribs, and Three was forced to retreat into her squid form. The leg cut through the air above her head, and Three flopped away from a follow-up grab, rolling in between the asshole’s legs. She came up in her humanoid form behind him, grabbed her hero shot, and whipped it against the side of dude’s head with a  _ crack. _

“Little twerp!” the man grumbled as he stumbled to the side, his hat falling off. Three began firing on him, but despite her ink soaking through the coat, he seemed completely unfazed. He turned around to face her and struck out with a straight left punch, again spraying ink everywhere; Three swiveled and let it glide past her chest, then reached out, grabbed his arm at the elbow, and yanked him towards her. With her body parallel to his arm, she lifted her right elbow to meet his oncoming chin.

_ “Nyuze!” _ he spat as his head snapped upwards, but he recovered quickly—too quickly. Before Three could dodge out of the way, he sprang forward and tackled her, taking them both to the ground. They rolled and struggled for a while, but his sheer size and weight proved to be too much for Three to kick off, and before she knew it, he had her pinned to the ground.

Three could finally get a good look at him now that he was looming over her. He was an Octoling, first of all, but bigger than any others she’d ever seen. He had his long tentacles pulled back into a ponytail at his neck, and they trailed down past his shoulder blades. The dark skin of his face was marred by several pale scars—he’d definitely seen a lot of battles.

Three could also see a bright hawaiian shirt showing from beneath his trench coat, which was gaudy as all hell. And to make matters so, so much worse, his sunglasses had fallen off at some point during the fight to reveal a pair of orange shutter shades underneath. God damn, this dude needed a serious fashion intervention.

“Nice to finally see you again, Agent 3,” he said, his voice low and threatening.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Three asked.

He gave her an indignant frown. “You—I—seriously? I’m DJ Octavio, you worthless little hipster!”

Oh. Oh, shit. Well that wasn’t good. “Huh. Explains your horrible fashion sense, I suppose. What happened to that weird disco ball you like piloting so much?”

“I don’t need the Octobot King to beat you chucklefucks,” Octavio hissed. “Also it’s still broken from last time. But that’s not important! All that matters is that I can take my revenge on you and your friends!”

“Wait, hold up. Don’t generalize. I’m pretty sure that includes Four, and she is an acquaintance at best.”

Three was kind of panicking; she hoped it didn’t show through her voice. Gramps had told her long ago about how formidable Octavio had been back in the war, and Octolings apparently aged much more gracefully than Inklings. The Octobot King, while powerful, may have only been holding him back before; judging by how brief their fight had been just now, Three would’ve had a hard time against him in this form even if he hadn’t caught her by surprise. Hopefully, though, if she could keep him talking, she could find a way to get out of this and warn the others.

“I’m done talking with you,” Octavio said, grabbing her by the neck.

Well, fuck.

He lifted her up into the air, wound back his arm, and flung her full-force into the wall. Three heard the crash of the wood and plaster giving out, and everything went dark.

* * *

“So, what does a maid of honor do, exactly? During the actual ceremony, I mean.” Eight asked. She and Four were standing at the refreshments table, ‘getting things ready’ and totally not just eating lots of pastries.

“I mean, to be completely straight with you,” Four said in between mouthfuls of chocolate croissant, “I have no clue. This is my first wedding.”

“Me too,” Eight said.

Four shrugged. “I think we’re just supposed to, like. Look pretty. Emotionally support Pearl and Marina. That sort of thing.”

Eight looked over to where Pearl and Marina were talking with Captain Cuttlefish. Pearl said something, causing Marina to nearly double over in laughter, grabbing onto Pearl’s shoulder for stability.

“They don’t look like they need support,” Eight said.

“Mmhmm. And that’s why I don’t feel guilty about standing here and pigging out on baked goods.”

Well, that made sense to Eight. She reached out to grab a chocolate chip and blueberry muffin, but paused when she heard a loud  _ thump _ come from over by the door. “Four, did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” Four said, frowning. “It was probably just Three dealing with a rowdy fan or something.”

“Probably,” Eight agreed. She couldn’t help but look over to the table where she and the rest of Fresh Ink had dropped off their weapons and tanks from practice.

And then Three came flying through the wall with a deafening  _ crash, _ hitting the ground and crumpling on a pile of splinters and plaster.

“Oh my god!” Four shouted.

“Three?” Eight called, running over. “Three?! Three!” She kneeled down and shook her girlfriend back and forth, but she wasn’t getting up. She was still breathing, but Eight kind of wished she’d been killed; she likely would’ve been able to run back here from the public spawns in less time than it would take her to regain consciousness. 

Eight looked up, and saw a tall Octoling staring at her through the hole in the wall, shrugging off a trenchcoat. “Who are you?” she demanded, stumbling back onto her feet.

The Octoling hung the trenchcoat on one of the shattered pieces of wall, and then calmly walked off to the side to enter through the door, ducking a little so his head would clear it. Eight wondered why he didn’t just use the hole. He’d gone through all the trouble of making it, after all.

“Don’t you remember what I look like in this form?” he asked. “Oh, wait, you don’t remember anything, right? Sorry, that’s my bad.”

“Eight! Catch!”

Eight turned around to see Four standing at the table with all their weapons. She lobbed Eight’s ink tank and splattershot over to her, and Eight caught them, slinging on the tank and holding the splattershot at the ready. “I remember how to fight.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “We’ll see.”

“DJ Octavio?!” Marina called out from behind them. 

Octavio turned his head. “Oh, wassup, S-01-A. I heard you were the first one to defect. Congrats. You know, it’s sad that you’re wasting that mind of yours on such trashy beats.”

“Hey!” Pearl shouted.

“How’d he get out of his snowglobe?” Callie called. She was suddenly holding her roller, and Marie had her charger. Where they’d been hiding those, Eight had no idea.

“Uh, them, probably,” Marie said, pointing towards the horde of Octarians pouring into the venue.

“Alright, everyone!” Octavio shouted. “Time to bring the beat down on these chumps! Grab Agent 3; I want her tied and outta here before she wakes up!”

“Try it,” Eight hissed. She bared her beak, narrowed her eyes, and leapt forward at the DJ.

* * *

“Eight!” Marina shouted. She, Captain Cuttlefish, and Pearl were back by the altar discussing the ceremony, so all she could do was watch as Octavio and Eight began to battle it out.

“Dammit!” Pearl said. “On our wedding day? Really? This guy has  _ no  _ manners.”

Marina let out a low growl. “Oh, he’s lucky I wasn’t front-ops, or I’d rip him a new  _ didizatse. _ How the hell are we going to fix that hole before the wedding starts? I swear on my life, if he so much as breaks a  _ table _ —”

“Marina, we might have bigger things to worry about right now,” Pearl said.

“Drat,” Captain Cuttlefish said, eyes glancing around at the incoming Octarians. “He’s been sending in soldiers to capture rogue Octolings for a while now, but I never thought he’d attack us so forwardly like this.”

“Wait, he has?” Marina asked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, mostly because neither of you are actually in the Splatoon, so that would be a breach of confidentiality,” he said, which, okay, fair. “But also because it's not our jurisdiction anyway. The NSS is a recon and infiltration force; our job is to invade the enemy. There’s a different agency that deals with when the enemy invades us, and they were already on top of this case. The only reason I even know about it because they needed help one week when a couple of their agents were otherwise occupied. Besides, they were doing a fine job of it.”

“Until now,” Marina said.

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Uh, guys?” Pearl said, gaining their attention. “Incoming!”

Marina turned and saw a small group of Octarian ground troops approaching them. The one in front was a twintacle octotrooper with a shield, and spoke to his squad mates in a high, grating Octarian.  _ “The Octoling and the old one are both on the capture list,” _ he said.  _ “Do whatever to the short one.” _

“What are they saying?” Pearl asked Marina.

“They want to capture us, and kill you.”

Pearl frowned. “Rude.”

“Do you all have weapons on you?” asked the captain.

“No,” Marina said.

“Of course not. It’s our  _ wedding day,”  _ said Pearl. “But I  _ can _ do  _ this! _ Cover your ears.”

Marina slapped her claws to her ears. Cuttlefish gave her a confused look. “Do as she says. Trust me.”

As he covered his ears, and the Octarians began to fire, Pearl reached up and cupped her hands around her mouth before letting out a thunderous,  _ “BOOYAH!!”  _ at the very top of her lungs, right at the Octarians.

Even through her hands, Marina felt as if her eardrums were about to shatter. The Octarians, though, were clearly getting the worst of it, and after a couple seconds, they exploded into ink.

The captain shakily removed his hands from his ears. “As impressive as that was, Pearl,” he said, “maybe next time you could spare an old man some ear pain and just let me take care of it, okay?”

Pearl blushed a little. “Uh, yeah. Sure thing.”

* * *

Meagan walked back to the main hall, carrying a stack of chairs at her side. Leo was right behind her with his own stack, the metal clanking together as they loped down the hallway. 

“I still can’t wrap my head around this,” Leo said. “Off the Hook  _ and  _ the Squid Sisters in  _ one place? _ With  _ us?  _ Our friends are never gonna believe it.”

“That’s why I’ll be taking pictures,” Meagan laughed.

Soon, they arrived at the door back to the ballroom. Meagan paused, shifting her weight to better open the doors, when she noticed the huge racket coming from the other side.

“What the hell are they doing in there?”

“It sounds like fighting,” Leo said.

“Why the fuck would they be fighting?”

Leo shrugged. Megan sighed; well, only one way to find out.

She opened up the door, only to see a giant tentacle right on the other side.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” she screamed.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” Leo shouted.

Then the tentacle turned to face them. Literally ‘face’ them, because it had a face, which was horrible and awful and very, very weird. It also seemed to be manning some sort of splatling gun.

Meagan lost her grip on the chairs, and they clattered to the floor. “WHY DOES IT HAVE A FACE?!”

“WHY DOES IT HAVE A  _ GUN?!” _ Leo countered.

The…  _ thing _ narrowed its eyes at them, and the barrel of the splatling began rotating.

“Shit!” Meagan said, ducking and grabbing one of the chairs off the ground. “Get behind me!”

Leo quickly followed her instructions, and Meagan only barely managed to bring the chair up in time before the gun began firing. The two of them crouched down behind the chair as blast after blast of ink slammed into the metal.

“Shit shit shit!” Meagan said. “I can’t hold it much longer!”

“It’s a splatling,” Leo said, speaking lowly and quickly. “We know how to deal with splatlings. Wait until it’s done firing, then attack.”

Meagan took a deep breath, straining to keep the chair in place. “Right, right. Get ready.”

Leo nodded, grabbing onto one of his own chairs. As soon as she felt the pressure on the back of her chair lessen, she shouted, “Now!”

The two of them sprung forward and slammed their chairs into either side of the creature’s face. His body squished together, sandwiched between their attacks, and exploded into ink.

“Yes!” Meagan exclaimed, high-fiving Leo. Then she looked out over the room; there were more of those things all over the place, fighting with all of the wedding-attendees. Lynn was actually fighting a few off only a few feet away. 

“Lynn! What’s going on?” Leo shouted.

Lynn turned, finishing off one of the tentacles with a few quick slaps. “Meg! Leo! Great, we could really use your help!” She rushed over and shoved their weapons and ink tanks into their hands.

“What the fuck are these things?” Meagan asked, strapping on her tank.

“Octarians,” Lynn said. “Remember history class? The Great Turf War?”

“I thought they were wiped out,” Leo said.

“Yeah, so, turns out, not really.”

“Yeah no shit,” Meagan said, looking around the room. “But why are they  _ here?” _

“Kind of a long story,” Lynn said. “Short of it is, I’m a secret agent—”

Meagan’s eyes widened. “You’re a  _ what?” _

“—and so is Three, and Eight, and the Squid Sisters, and the old man over there—”

“Wait, the Squid Sisters are secret agents?” Leo asked.

“—and when the Octarians stole the Great Zapfish those two times that they did that—”

“That was the Octarians?” Meagan felt like she was having a stroke.

“—we had to go invade the Octarian base to get him back—”

Leo stared at Lynn.  _ “You _ saved the Great Zapfish?”

“Well, the second time, yeah, but anyway, doing that really ticked off DJ Octavio—he’s the big one Eight’s fighting—so I think he’s getting revenge or something? I don’t know, I’m actually kind of unclear on that part.”

“Just on that part, huh?” Meagan said. “Because I’m kind of unclear on all of it.”

“Look, I’ll explain more thoroughly later,” Lynn said. “That’s kind of secondary to making sure we don’t get captured.”

“Understandable,” Meagan said.

“Wait, this isn’t, like, a ‘now that you know we have to kill you’ thing, is it?” Leo asked.

She laughed, then ran off.

“I… will be optimistic and assume she laughed because she thought I was joking, and not because she’s dodging the question,” Leo said.

“How about we contemplate all that shit,” Meagan suggested,  _ “after _ we’re not in immediate danger.”

Leo nodded. “Sounds good.”

* * *

Eight grimaced as she vaulted over a row of chairs, firing endlessly at DJ Octavio. It seemed as though no matter how much ink she tossed on him, he just didn’t care. It would sizzle against his skin, then slough right off, leaving him no more injured than before.

“Ha!” he taunted. “This is too easy! Wow, I should’ve just fought your dumb agent friends like this all the time. That Octobot King really is a piece of junk!”

He threw out a straight punch, sending a shotgun blast of ink right at Eight. She twisted away, but he followed up with a left hook, sending a wave of ink that caught Eight right across the stomach. She felt her form destabilizing, but managed to jump backwards into her ink, taking a few precious seconds to resolidify. She swam around to the side and popped up, only to take a kick to the hip and be thrown like a bowling ball into the mass of folding chairs.

“Why are you  _ doing _ this?” Eight shouted, bouncing to her feet. She hurled one of the chairs at him and followed it up with a burst bomb.

“Because I hate you people!” he replied. He snatched the chair out of the air, and used it as a shield to block the burst bomb. “I kind of thought that was obvious.”

Then he launched the chair back where it came from. She put out her arms in a guard, but the furniture still hurt as it crashed into her. But it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the brass knuckles that followed, slamming into the back of the chair and flinging the both of them through the air. Eight barely managed to turn into an octopus to soften her landing before she plonked onto the floor, and then shifted back to her normal form to push up onto her knees. But before she could stand up, DJ Octavio’s sneering face appeared above her. He reached down, grabbed her by the arm, and swung her over his head, slamming her back into the ground on the opposite side of him. He followed up with another kick that sent Eight rolling limb over limb across the tiles, coming to a rest yards away with her muscles screaming.

“Heh,” Octavio laughed. “Get trashed.”

Eight finally managed to get back onto her feet, but she felt bruised and battered all over. There was no way she was winning like this.

“There’s no way you’re winning like this,” Octavio said. It sounded a lot more smug when he said it. “Just give up.”

Eight glowered at him and raised her gun.

“Have it your way, then,” he sneered. “Get ready for a beatdown, chump!”

* * *

Marie cringed as she watched Eight get kicked across the room. “This is bad,” she said. “At this rate, Octavio’s going to win.”

“Ugh, that would be so embarrassing,” Callie groaned from behind her. They were standing back-to-back, mowing down as many Octarians as they could. “Do you think we should bring out the trump card?”

“He didn’t bring any Octolings, though,” Marie said. “He must’ve been anticipating it.”

“Breaking other forms of hypnosis is only half of what the Inkantation does,” Callie said. “It should still help.”

Marie took out an Octosniper, then rolled out of the way of an Octotrooper and fired a series of uncharged shots to take it out. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Three lying on the ground, still unconscious. Four was running circles around her with her brush and managing to keep her out of Octarian hands, but who knew how long she’d be able to keep it up.

“You’re right,” Marie said. “Let’s do it. We need all the help we can get.”

* * *

Pearl yelped and ducked down behind Captain Cuttlefish as an Octosniper’s shot sailed past her ear. Cuttlefish was going ham on the bamboozler, and Four and her friends were doing an impressive job of controlling the crowd, but things still weren’t looking too hot.

“Pearl! The mic!” Callie yelled. Pearl swiveled around. “Toss me the mic!”

Pearl looked down at the microphone that Cuttlefish would be using to officiate the wedding. “What? Why!?”

“Just do it!” Marie screeched, firing a charge blast into the crowd of Octarians.

Fucking… what the hell were they going to do with a microphone? If anybody should be doing anything with a microphone, it was her; she just wasn’t sure if the building’s architecture would hold up.

Hopefully, whatever they were planning would be worth it. She grabbed the microphone off the floor, wound back her arm, and hurled the thing at the Squid Sisters. “Heads up!”

Callie jumped up and caught it in one hand, even as she brought her roller down with the other, squashing a few octodivers. She and Marie backed up into a corner, and Callie held the mic up to their mouths as Marie kept on sniping. And then, they began to sing.

_ “Ya! Weni! Marei! Mirekyara hire! Juri! Yu mirekerason!” _

“The Calamari Inkantation?” Pearl wondered aloud. Then she turned to Marina, who already looked entranced. “Marina? Hey, you there? Marina?”

Marina’s face broke into a grin, and her tentacles took on a mind of their own, curling and thrashing about. “That heavenly melody…” she muttered. “Come on, Pearl! Let’s do this!”

“We don’t have weapons, remember?” Pearl said, exasperated.

_ “Kire! Hyari! Yuriherahe nyurahera nunyera, unera, yurawera fimera ni!” _

Marina turned around, grabbed the wedding altar, and flung it into a group of octotroopers.

“Damn,” Pearl muttered, staring shamelessly at Marina’s show of athleticism. “In heels?”

“Can’t you feel it?” Marina huffed. “Coursing through your veins?”

“Uhhhhh.” She looked at her wrist. “Not really.”

“Octolings are more naturally susceptible to hypnosis,” Captain Cuttlefish explained from in front of them as he shot an octocopter out of the sky. “The rest of us inklings should feel it kick in by the chorus, I expect.”

“Oh,” Pearl said. “Wait, this is hypnosis?!”

The captain turned his head. “What did you think it was?”

“I just thought it was good music.”

“Good enough to break mind control and enhance combat ability?” he asked incredulously.

“I mean, like,  _ really _ good.”

“Oh, Pearlie,” Marina said, shaking her head. Then she proceeded to beat an octotrooper over the head with a decorative candelabrum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that’s a horribly abrupt way to end a chapter, but it was like six thousand words and I had to split it, so sue me. 
> 
> Actually? I take it back. Marina smacking somebody with a candlestick is a fantastic way to end a chapter. I’m standing up for my authorial decisions now.


	4. Rematch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eight and Octavio attempt to resolve their differences through violence.

_ “Choperipo… shura shurafe nanyuruni, weni fafera hi,”  _ Callie sung, her voice coming in through the speakers.

“I hate this song. Always steppin’ on my rhythm,” DJ Octavio grumbled. “Maybe once I’m done with you, I’ll show those wannabe idols what real music sounds like. I bet the sound of me pounding their faces in would make a great beat!”

Eight, running short on breath, ink, and stamina, didn’t bother replying; instead, she ducked under another one of his punches and continued to fire on him. As she felt the Inkantation flow through her, her shots which were previously barely noticeable to the giant Octoling were now sizzling with acidity. 

“Dammit!” He cried out, ducking down into his ink and popping up just out of Eight’s range. “I’m not gonna let this mainstream trash get the best of me again!”

Eight ran forward. Octavio clasped his hands together and brought them down onto the puddle he was standing in, causing a wave of magenta ink to fly out towards Eight. She managed to flip up one of the concession tables and duck behind it just in time, taking the opportunity to recharge her ink tank. She sighed as she thought of all those delicious baked goods that would be totally ruined now; she wouldn’t forget their sacrifice.

_ “Nanyuruni, weraniraharashurahe—nyurunirehara fe, fe, fe!”  _

Once the last of Octavio’s ink spilled over the top of the table, Eight rolled backwards onto the palms of her hands and kicked out, booting the table straight at the DJ. He planted his feet, wound back a fist, and threw out a punch in response. His brass knuckles cracked against the plastic and split the table in two, the halves flying past him harmlessly to either side. “Nice try, punk. You couldn’t beat me before, and you won’t be able to beat me again!”

“What do you mean, before?” Eight said, firing more ink at him.

He put his arms up in a guard and charged forward, crashing through Eight’s ink and nearly bowling her over. She managed to roll away just in time, and he skidded to a stop, turning around to face her. “When I crushed your  _ stupid _ little rebellion! When I broke out of that accursed snow globe last year!”

“I thought you said I was always perfectly loyal,” Eight said, furrowing her eyebrows. “Back when we talked.”

“I say a lot of things,” he barked. “Sorry if I can’t keep my story straight.”

“Wait, so what actually happened, then?” Eight asked.

“You rallied all the Octolings together and revolted against the Octarians is what happened!” he shouted, flexing his fingers before curling them back up into fists. “Once I got back, I put a stop to that shit real fast, but somehow you still got out alive. I’m here to fix that!” He snarled at her, his eyes manic, and leapt forward.

_ “Ya! Weni! Marei…”  _

* * *

_ “…Mirekyara hire! Juri! Yu mirekerason!” _

Three groaned, her eyelids creaking open like a garage door that hadn’t been used in years. Her body hurt all over, but she supposed that could be expected after getting thrown through a wall. But even as she thought that, the pain began to recede, drowned out by the familiar tune that flowed through her mind.

Shakily, she put an arm under herself, and pushed up, only to crumple back down. Alright. Rest a bit longer first. She could do that.

Then she felt something grab onto her leg. With a grunt, she lifted her head and saw a small, round Octarian with a hard hat dragging her towards the exit. “Hey! Stop!” she shouted, kicking at it with her free leg. The Octarian yelped in fright—it must’ve thought Three was still knocked out—and reflexively dropped a splat bomb right on top of Three’s legs.

Well that wasn’t good.

Three swore and tried to kick the bomb away, but it was just in the  _ worst _ possible spot, and she couldn’t get an angle on it. She managed to sit up despite her protesting arms and abdomen, but she didn’t have nearly enough time to get away before—

And then a streak of green swept clean over Three’s body and slammed into the bomb, sending it rocketing into the air where it exploded harmlessly. Three took advantage of the opportunity to grab the stupid Octarian by its face. She rolled over onto her knees with it still in her fist, and then slammed it into the floor with enough force that it splatted under her hand.

“Thanks,” Three said.

“No problem. I hate tentakooks,” Four said, blocking a few oncoming shots of ink with the handle of her brush. “Little thieving jerks.”

“They didn’t have those back during my mission,” Three said. “They don’t seem very strong.”

“No, but they sure are annoying,” Four said. “Are you in good enough shape to fight?”

“Yes,” Three said, in an effort to convince herself. She struggled onto her feet. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, Leo, Meg, and I are dealing with the little guys, Cuttlefish is guarding Pearl and Marina who don’t have weapons, and Eight’s keeping Octavio busy.”

Three’s eyes widened.

“Oh, and Callie and Marie are doing their thing, but since I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason you can stand right now, you probably figured that out.”

“Wait, what about Eight?”

Four looked at her. “She’s fighting Octavio, I already said that.”

No, no, no, no—Three’s eyes scouted around the room. She absentmindedly noticed where her hero shot had fallen, but even as she began making her way over to it, she couldn’t look away from where Eight and DJ Octavio were fighting. He was running at her, fist raised back, and—

_ “EIGHT!” _

* * *

“You don’t make any damn  _ sense!” _ DJ Octavio yelled, smashing his fist into the spot where Eight had been standing a second before. Eight thought she’d heard someone shouting, but it was drowned out by the sound of Octavio’s punch making a ink-covered crater in the floor. As he retracted his hand, bits of the tiling dribbled to the ground amongst waterfalls of dust.

Eight, having flung herself to the side in order to dodge, scrambled to her feet to resume shooting at him. She barely had any time to fire, however, before an Octobomber lobbed a splat bomb at her from the crowd of Octarians; Leo splatted it right afterwards, but the damage was done, and Eight was forced to move closer than she’d like to Octavio to avoid the blast.

“After your little rebellion failed, I took you back to HQ and remixed ya,” Octavio said, slamming a boot into Eight’s ribcage. She gasped in pain and slid backwards, teetering but managing to stay upright long enough to duck under a follow-up punch. She felt ink droplets rain onto her tentacles as Octavio’s fist whooshed over her head. “Those hypnoshades pack some spice, even against Inklings. But on Octolings? We don’t stand a chance.  _ You _ didn’t stand a chance.”

Eight rolled under his legs and jabbed her elbow backwards against the underside of his kneecap. His leg buckled and he fell to one knee, just in time for Eight to swivel around and deliver a roundhouse kick right to his lower back. “I think you should stop underestimating people.”

“SHUT UP!” Octavio roared, swinging a hand around behind him and sending out a wave of magenta ink. Eight yelped and dove into her own ink, swimming back out to a safer distance. Octavio took the time to stand back up, turning around to face her once again. “I programmed those shades myself; I know ‘em like I know my own tracks. The only thing that woulda been strong enough to break you out of their hypnotizing beat is that janky remix of the Inkantation the Squid Sisters put on when your annoying yellow friend stormed my base. But you were long gone by then!”

It was then that Eight noticed Three, who was making her way over to them from Octavio’s blind spot. She didn’t look like she was in the best shape at the moment, but Eight would take her help nonetheless. “Gone?” she asked, shooting at Octavio to keep his attention off of Three. “Gone where?”

“We’d heard reports of Agent 3 bustin’ up a few bases out in Octo Ravine,” he said, sending out rapid blasts of ink with a flurry of punches. The sheer volume of ink that he put out absorbed Eight’s shots, and she was forced to give up even more ground. “So I sent you off to find her and bring her in. No matter which way that shook out, I’d have had one less problem to deal with. But somehow, I’m still stuck”—he swiveled on the spot and threw a right hook straight at Three, who had just come within striking distance—“with  _ both _ of you  _ jaskenei!” _

Three rolled to the side. “Well, so much for a surprise att—ack!” She was cut off as Octavio reached out and grabbed her by a tentacle. “Ow! Bitch!” she shouted, molding a burst bomb in her hand and spiking it right into Octavio’s face.

“My eyes! I need those to DJ!” he cried, but he didn’t let go of Three. Eight set her jaw and charged, covering his back with ink as she went. It sizzled against his skin, and he began to lose his form. With another curse, he slunk back into his ink, and Three immediately grabbed her tentacle with her free hand, stuffing it down the back of her hoodie. As she did the same for the other one, Eight couldn’t help but snicker at how silly it looked. 

“C’mon, Three, I thought you liked it when people pulled your tentacles.”

From somewhere behind them, Eight heard Four bark out a laugh.

“Eight, please,” Three said, her face flushed from a mixture of exhaustion and Eight’s comment. “Not the time.”

Octavio emerged a few feet away, and swung his arms in a big arc, clapping them together in front of him. A huge torrent of ink shot out, and Eight and Three were forced to jump to either side in order to dodge. Eight landed and began firing, and Three was flanking around Octavio, shooting as she went. Octavio slipped into his ink and popped out just as quickly, sweeping out low at Three’s feet. Three jumped over the attack, but she apparently was still a bit beaten up from getting thrown through a wall, because her legs gave out from the force of her landing, and she fell hard on her shoulder.

“Three!” Eight called out.

“Worry about yourself,” Octavio hissed, leaping towards her and throwing out a fist. Eight stepped into the attack and grabbed his arm, using his momentum to hurl him to the ground. But instead of collapsing to the floor, Octavio landed on the palms of his hands, and sprung back up, whipping Eight across the face with his foot as he did so. She coughed, staggering backwards, and felt a hand wrap around her neck. “You’re an enigma, F-02-A, but a  _ strong _ enigma,” he said, pulling her closer. “I have a feeling you’ll be hella useful to me in the future.”

Then Three jumped up, grabbed onto his shoulder, and punched him in the face. “Get”—punch—“your”—punch—“hands”—punch—“off of her!”

“Fine!” Octavio shouted once he managed to shake Three off of himself. His face was bruised and bloodied—Three could throw a mean fist—and his breathing was coming more heavily, but he was still standing strong. “Take her if you want her so much, you lovesick brat!” 

He pulled back his arm, taking Eight with it. She watched out of her periphery as Three stood up and planted her feet. Three called out, “Change!” just as Octavio swung his arm forward, flinging Eight straight at Three with enough force to… well, to break through a wall, she supposed.

She changed into her octopus form as quickly as she could, the air ripping through her gills as she shot towards Three like a bullet. But just before she hit, Three leaned to the side and grabbed her by the tentacles. 

“Hit him extra hard for me, okay?” she said. Then she began spinning along with Eight’s momentum, the toe of her boot twirling against the slippery ink under her foot. After a couple of revolutions, Eight felt like her tentacles were about to be ripped off, but she managed to keep herself together until Three released her, sending her careening right back at DJ Octavio.

Eight was not sure she was the biggest fan of this strategy, but it was probably better than Three just dodging and having her crash into a table, so she was willing to go along with it. 

She transformed back into her larger form and managed to put her arms up in an ‘x’ pattern in front of her face just before she slammed into Octavio’s chest. Her arms hit him first, then her face crashed into her arms, and then the rest of her body followed through. He slid a few feet across the tiles, but he quickly pitched backwards, and they tumbled to the ground. 

Eight, her body aching, rolled away from him and managed to get her feet back under her. A few feet away, Octavio was on his back, clutching his chest with one hand where Eight had collided with him. He coughed and flipped onto his stomach, then managed to push onto his hands and knees, finally putting one foot down on the floor and raising his torso into a kneeling position. 

And then Three superjumped into his face, landing boots-first.

Octavio was again tossed away, this time bowling over a few Octarians that hadn’t been smart enough to keep their distance. He slammed into the far wall, squashing his underlings between his body and the paint, and slumped, groaning in pain.

Three fell out of the dropkick onto her back, and let out a hiss as she clambered back to her feet. “Dammit. I was hoping to get him through the wall.” She turned to Eight. “You okay?”

She nodded. She’d been better, though, that was for sure. “You?”

“I’ll be fine after a good nap.” Then she frowned. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking with me right now.”

“Hmm?” Eight followed her eyes, and saw that Octavio was getting back up.  _ “Mikero.” _

“You…  _ slimy _ little hipsters,” he growled. He was clutching one hand to his side, and another to his face as he limped towards them. “I’m not… leaving… without…”

And then he keeled over. He dropped face-first onto the ballroom floor, sending ink and dust flying up in clouds around him. It trickled back down to the ground as he lay there, his shallow breaths and the small spasms of activity from his tentacles the only movement once all the debris had settled. 

“Oh sweet,” Three said. “High five.”

She held out her hand, and Eight slapped it. “Thanks, Three,” Eight said. “I might not have been able to beat him on my own.”

“Yeah no prob,” she said, her voice hoarse. She sat down on the ground, then let her torso fall back so she was lying down. It was much more graceful than the way Octavio had done it. “I think the Inkantation’s wearing off for me, because my entire body hurts, like, so much. Wake me when the wedding starts or whatever.”

“Alright,” Eight said, smiling down at her. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Three mumbled absently as she shut her eyes. 

* * *

Marcus flipped through the channels on the TV. He’d already cycled through them all by now, but, like, whatever, you know? It was just that kind of day.

“Hey, Marcus?”

He shut off the television and turned to his roommate, Shianne. She’d been in front-ops squad four, so they’d never really bumped into each other back in the domes, but they’d been rescued around the same time, and so it had been recommended that they share an apartment. They got along pretty well, though, so he didn’t mind.

“Why do you have the business card of a captain of the Inkopolis military lying on your nightstand?”

Oh. “Uh, why were looking through my nightstand?”

“I couldn’t find my claw filer, and after you  _ stole _ it last week, I think it’s understandable—”

“Okay, fair,” Marcus said. “Look, it’s, like… so, you know that pro turfing game I went to because there was an Octoling playing?”

“…Yeah?”

“I kinda got ambushed by an Octoling soldier on the way back.”

“You WHAT?!”

“But it’s cool!” Marcus said quickly. “Some old Inkling guy splatted them before they could kidnap me. And then he gave me his business card.”

“Marcus!” Shianne exclaimed, exasperated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“We’ve got to tell Kayla.”

“I already did,” Marcus admitted. “She said she knew. She’s working with the military, actually, and they’ve managed to prevent any of the kidnappings from being successful. Well, as far as the Octolings that Kayla has documented go, at least.”

“Well, aside from, like, Marina, that’s everybody, right?” Shianne said. “It’s not like Octolings are just walking out the front door. How the hell would you dehypnotize yourself, anyway?”

Marcus frowned. “But, Eight’s assignment number wasn’t one of the ones on Kayla’s list.”

“Eight?”

“The Octoling at the tournament.”

“Are you sure you’re remembering her number correctly?” Shianne asked.

“Definitely,” Marcus said with a nod. “F-02-A. Kinda hard to forget.”

Shianne’s jaw dropped.  _ “What.” _

“What?” Marcus asked.

“And you’re  _ sure?” _

“Yeah…? What’s so special about the second squad leader?”

Shianne put a hand up to her head and sat down. “I guess you wouldn’t know, being a low-ranked sci-ops and all, but she went  _ missing. _ Poof. And this—this was  _ before _ Kayla started breaking us out. Before Agent 4’s raid, even. Why is she here now?”

Marcus gulped. “We need to talk to Kayla.”

“Big time,” Shianne said, staring intensely at the dead TV, like she was searching its screen for answers.

Marcus just squeezed her shoulder before standing up and making his way to his room to put on his shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, Fly Octo Fly came on in my playlist while I was writing the part where Three yeets Eight at Octavio and I lost it


	5. Anyway, Now That That's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marina will HAVE her wedding TODAY, no matter WHAT it takes.

The Octarians turned tail and retreated not long after DJ Octavio’s defeat; they’d lost the majority of their ranks already, and without their leader, they didn’t really stand much of a shot. 

“Yeah, that’s right!” Pearl shouted after them. “Run away! Cowards!”

Callie and Marie stopped singing, and everybody lowered their weapons. Marina smiled in relief—and then the adrenaline wore off, and she was suddenly very aware of the state of the venue. Chairs and tables were toppled, pastries were smashed against the floor, there was a fucking  _ hole in the wall— _ it was a mess.

“Our…” Marina gulped, and started to shake. “Our—our wed—our—”

Pearl cast her a worried look. “Uh, are you okay there, ‘Rina?”

_ “OUR WEDDDING!” _ Marina screeched.  _ “IT’S RUINED!” _

Everybody looked around awkwardly. Pearl let out a hiss. “Er, yeah, kinda.”

“But that’s not fair!” Marina protested. “We worked so hard! It was going to be perfect!”

“Nothing’s perfect, Marina,” Pearl said gently.

“NOT ANYMORE!” she yelled.

“Hey, could someone tell her to stop shouting?” Three grumbled from the floor. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“We don’t have  _ time _ to sleep!” Marina screamed. “We’ve got to fix this!”

“Uh, in an hour?” Callie said. “I mean, I think it’s salvageable, but we might need to postpone it.”  _ _

“Callie, there’s a hole in the wall,” Marie said. Callie elbowed her.

_ “Yes, _ in an hour!” Marina insisted. “I am getting married  _ today, _ and there is no force on this  _ entire goddamn planet _ that’s able to stop me. Callie! Microphone!”

Callie exchanged a glance with Marie, then began walking over to the stage.

“Throw it! Now!”

“Okay, okay!” Callie said, lobbing the mic over to Marina. She caught it expertly, then immediately began barking orders.

“Four’s teammates that I forgot the names of! We broke two tables and seven chairs in the fight, go get replacements! Craig, you start setting up all the ones that got knocked over! Four, Eight, get DJ Octavio’s body out of sight and then start cleaning! Callie and Marie, go raid every bakery in Inkopolis, we need more pastries! I’ll, uh, pay you back. Pearl! Fix the wall!”

“What?!” Pearl exclaimed, looking at her like she was crazy.

Marina stared into her soul. She was  _ not _ crazy. “Do it.”

Pearl hurried off.

“And Three! Don’t think I don’t see you slacking over there!”

Three raised her head and shot her a look so dirty it wasn’t even fit for a dumpster. “Christ, Marina! I got thrown through a  _ wall!” _

“And I’ll throw you through another if you don’t get your ass off the ground,” Marina hissed.

Three got her ass off the ground. “Okay, fine. What do you want?”

“You’re with me,” she said, throwing down the mic and hopping off the stage.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re going to convince the hotel staff to help us, and I need your ‘don’t mess with me I’m a bad bitch’ energy to do it.”

“You don’t have enough of that on your own?” Three asked wrly.

“Shut up.”

* * *

“Hi, do you have a moment?” Marina asked sweetly. Three took one look at her eyes and shuddered.

“Of course,” said the secretary Inkling seated behind the main desk. “What can I do for you, Miss Ida?”

“We need as many staff members as you have to help set up for the wedding in Ballroom 3.”

“Stat,” Three said.

The secretary typed for a moment on her computer, then frowned. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but that venue was already prepared for you all two hours ago.”

“Well, we need it re-set up,” Marina insisted.

“I’m not sure we have staff available to help with—”

“It’ll only be for an hour,” Marina said. “And I’ll tip everyone who helps 70%. Including you!”

The secretary frowned. “I don’t know…”

“Under the table,” Three added.

“Well, I’m sure I can find some available workers,” she said quickly, reaching for the phone on her desk as Marina fished out her wallet.

* * *

“Ugh, he’s heavier than I expected,” Four grunted.

“He  _ is _ eight feet tall,” Eight said from in front of her, stopping briefly to adjust her grip. “You need to take a break?”

“No, I’m good.” Four continued walking after Eight, trying her best not to look down at the unconscious face of DJ Octavio as they lugged him through the back area of the hotel. “How about that closet on the left?”

Eight turned her head. “Sure.” They approached the closet, and then Eight wrapped one tentacle around the door handle, swinging it open. They crammed themselves inside the small space, then laid Octavio down on the ground.

Four let out a sigh of relief. “Whew. Just hope nobody comes into the closet until the wedding’s over and we can move him somewhere else.”

“I’m kind of surprised he didn’t wake up.”

“I mean, you and Three did a real number on him.”

“I guess.” Eight crossed her arms, looking down at the limp form of her former commander. “And you’re sure those cuffs will hold him? Even if he changes forms and stuff?”

“Don’t worry, we used the same kind on him after my mission,” Four said. “They’ll hold.”

“Great.” Eight reached down, grabbed an empty mop bucket, and flipped it upside-down on Octavio’s face. “Alright. Let’s head on back.”

* * *

Pearl taped what must’ve been the fiftieth Off the Hook tour poster over the hole in the wall, then stepped back to look at her work. It was perfect! You couldn’t see the hole at all!

“What… why…”

Pearl turned to see a group of New Albacore employees, lead at the helm by Three and Marina. 

“Don’t ask,” said Three to the man who had spoken up.

“Good thing we had so many of those posters left over,” Marina said. “Good job, Pearl.”

“You know it!”

Marina turned back to face the crowd. “Alright, people! The wedding starts in forty minutes, and we need this place looking immaculate before it does! Three, you’re on door duty again; don’t let anyone see inside until you’ve gotten the all-clear.”

“Got it,” Three said, before walking up the wall and slouching down, closing her eyes. “I’ll be right here.”

“Come on, Pearl,” Marina said, rushing into the ballroom. “We need to get ready!”

* * *

Callie kicked open the door to Jacqueline Jill’s Bakery. “GIVE ME ALL OF YOUR CROISSANTS!”

“Callie, stop saying that,” Marie drolled, walking in after her. “Sheesh.” She strolled up to the register and dropped a pile of coins onto the counter, staring at the befuddled cashier with dead eyes. “We need  _ way _ more than just their croissants.” 

* * *

“We can’t go in yet?”

“Nope.”

“So, what, we’re just supposed to stand here?”

“Yep.”

“Uh! Unbelievable! This is my  _ daughter’s _ wedding, and I am supposed to  _ dawdle _ out here in the corridor like a stranger? _ ” _

“Well if you prefer, you could continue to dawdle out here like a pretentious little—”

Four popped her head out of the door. “Three, we’re good.”

“Oh.” Three turned back to Ms. Houzuki. “Please, step inside.”

Pearl’s mom shot her a nasty look, but didn’t say anything further and she and her husband slipped into the venue. 

As the minutes ticked closer and closer to the scheduled start time of the wedding, more guests started to arrive, and Three had to go through the arduous process of making sure they were actually invited.

“Name?” she droned.

“Naomi Charles.”

Three searched down the list for her name, then paused. “Wait. Like, the same Naomi that Pearl cussed out on stage during her proposal?”

Naomi sighed. “Yes. That Naomi.”

“Nice,” Three said. “Yeah, you can go in.”

Naomi left, and was replaced by—oh fuck no.

“What the hell are you doing here, Danny?”

“What the hell are  _ you _ doing here, Amy?”

“I’m running security.”

“For Off the Hook?”

“Yes. And you were  _ not _ invited.”

“Aw, come on,” Danny said, waggling his eyebrows. They looked like poisonous caterpillars, and Three wanted more than anything to stomp right on top of them. “Can’t you do a favor for a friend?”

“Get out,” Three said, pointing away. “I have a job to do.”

He didn’t get out, much to Three’s endless frustration. “I can’t believe you know  _ Off the Hook. _ Your girlfriend’s got connections!”

“I’m about to give your tendons a few  _ less  _ connections if you don’t leave.”

“Wait just hear me out, okay? I—”

He was cut off as Marie’s head poked out of the door. “Hey, Three, it looks like most of the guests have arrived so—oh, who’s this asshole?”

“Danny.”

Marie narrowed her eyes. “Ohhhh.  _ You’re _ Danny?”

Danny looked between Three and Marie. “You—but—the Squid Sisters—”

“Looks like I gotta go,” Three said jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “See you at work.”

Marie made the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture with her fingers, then slowly closed the door behind them. 

“What the fuck?” Danny asked the air.

* * *

Marcus stood before Kayla’s apartment door, his boots sinking into the carpet that lined the hall. He glanced at Shianne, who looked equal parts nervous and determined. She nodded her head at him, so he reached up a hand and rapped firmly on the door. Two knocks, a pause, three knocks.

After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal Kayla, who was wearing a dressing gown and had her tentacles up in a high bun. She motioned them inside, and only began talking once the door was firmly shut. “Marcus, Shianne. Nice to see you.”

“You too,” Shianne said.

“Forgive my informal attire; I wasn’t expecting company.” She led them over to a small sitting area, where she had a couch and a couple armchairs set up in front of a low table, on which sat a cup of tea. “Do you want any tea? It’s still hot, and there’s plenty left in the kitchen.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Shianne said. “We’re coffee people.”

Kayla laughed politely. “Of course.”

“Were you just sitting in your dressing gown drinking tea by yourself before we came?” Marcus asked as he flopped onto the couch. “That’s kinda depressing.”

Shianne shot him an acidic glare, sitting down next to him. Kayla took a seat in one of the armchairs, breathed deeply, and sipped her tea. “So, anyway,” she said, carefully returning her cup to the table and pointedly avoiding looking at Marcus, “what brings you?”

“Marcus has some important information that he didn’t know was important information,” Shianne said.

Kayla raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this related to your attempted kidnapping?”

“Sort of?” Marcus said. “So, right before that happened, I was at a turf war tournament, because one of the contestants was an Octoling, which I thought was pretty cool, you know?”

“Ah yes,” Kayla said. “The enigmatic Eight.”

“Wait, you know her?” Shianne asked.

“I’m aware of her existence, but that’s the extent of it,” Kayla said. “She does wear a mask, you know. And we’ve tried contacting Ms. Lothamer—or, Agent 4, if you prefer—but she’s been unhelpful. I believe she thinks that we’re fans or something similar, and me and my helpers have been unable to get her into a private enough setting to talk openly and convince her otherwise.”

“Wait, Lynn Lothamer is Agent 4?”

Kayla raised her other eyebrow this time. “You… did not know?”

Shianne just shook her head in disbelief.

“Regardless,” Kayla said, “any information you have on Eight would be much appreciated. If she’s connected to the New Squidbeak Splatoon, she’s likely safer than we are, but it would nonetheless be reassuring to know how she fits into everything.”

“I managed to catch her after the game,” Marcus said. “I just wanted to say that it was nice to see an Octoling getting involved in something I really like, you know? But then, uh, she asked me if I knew her. I didn’t recognize her, but I asked for her assignment number just in case.”

“And it was…?” Kayla prompted

“F-02-A”

Kayla dropped her tea. 

It shattered against the table, ceramic shards throwing themselves across the wood. The liquid pooled, then trickled down the side in little streams, discoloring the rug underneath. “Are you sure?”

Marcus pointed at the table. “Um, your tea—”

“Marcus, are you  _ sure?” _ Kayla repeated.

“Um, yeah, I’m sure.”

“I’ll go grab a towel,” Shianne said softly, bouncing up and rushing towards the kitchen.

Kayla hardly seemed to notice her, her eyes laser-focused on Marcus. “What else did she tell you?”

“Nothing much, really. She was there with Agent 3 and Lynn—er, Agent 4, I guess. Uh… let’s see, she’s dating Agent 3.”

“Wait, really?” Kayla said.

“Agent 3?” Shianne said, hurrying back and beginning to wipe up the spilled tea. “Like,  _ the _ Agent 3? That one?”

“There aren’t really others, Shi. I thought it was strange too, but that’s what they said.”

“That’s… huh.” Kayla appeared to be deep in thought. “I can see that, I suppose. Well, I’m happy for her.” 

“Uh, okay,” Marcus said. “Also, she said that the only other Octoling she knows is Marina.”

Kayla paused. “Now  _ that’s _ interesting.”

“It is?” Shianne asked.

“Do you all remember that Octoling that jumped on stage back when Pearl proposed to Marina?” Kayla pulled out her phone and began tapping. “She, too, was an Octoling that I hadn’t rescued. I always thought she looked familiar, but…” Kayla stared at her phone, and just like that, she began wiping at her eyes. “She’s changed a lot. I thought… I thought she was dead.”

She put down her phone, and Marcus saw it was zoomed in on a picture of the same Octoling girl he’d spoken to, except sandwiched in a hug between Off the Hook.

“Wait…” Marcus paused. “Kayla, didn’t you say you were F-02-B before you escaped?”

Kayla nodded.

“So she’s…” Shianne’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Hey,” Marcus said, getting up and putting an arm around Kayla. “This is good, right? She’s safe.”

“Yes,” Kayla said, brushed the remained of her tears away and taking a deep breath. Even when she was so vulnerable, Kayla still managed to emanate an air of pure self-assuredness. “I’m just… confused. And shocked. And happy. So, so happy.”

“Do you want to talk to her?” Marcus asked.

“Of course,” Kayla laughed. “But I don’t know where to find her. Perhaps at Fresh Ink’s next tournament, I could sneak into their waiting room.”

“The wedding,” Shianne said, snapping her fingers. “Off the Hook’s wedding is happening in…” she checked her watch. “In like an hour. I read about it in a magazine. 02-A would probably be there, right?”

“She goes by Eight now, presumably,” Kayla said. Then she sighed. “I don’t want to bother them, though. I wasn’t invited.”

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Marcus said. “We’ll swing by right as it’s ending. That way, we won’t disturb them.”

“A solid plan,” Kayla said. “In the meantime, would you two like to be treated to some lunch?”

“Hell yes,” Marcus said.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Shianne added.

“Oh, it’s the least I can do,” Kayla said, getting up from her chair. “Just give me a minute to get some clothes on first.”

* * *

Three innocuously slipped into a free chair towards the back of the venue just as the Squid Sisters began singing the opening processional. It sounded like some version of  _ Fresh Start _ that incorporated elements of that standard wedding song that everyone recognized but didn’t know the name of, and Three was surprised by how well it worked.

Captain Cuttlefish stood by the altar up on the stage, looking just as kooky as always in his horrible lime outfit. Three watched as Marina entered the room and began gliding down the aisle, wearing an incredibly expensive-looking white suit that had just the faintest hints of dark green accents to match her natural ink color. 

Eight followed right behind her, and  _ adjfhasfuaihwefjikawoe she was also wearing a suit holy shit Three was going to die— _

Eight caught her eye as she walked, giving Three a smile and a wave. Three broke for a half second, then gave a miniscule wave back, smiling nervously and trying not to stare creepily. Eight giggled silently into her hand, which told Three that she had failed, and then turned back to face forwards as they finished their walk.

Pearl and Four emerged in their wake, both sporting elegant white dresses with a few splashes of pink to add some color. Three had to hand it to Four; she knew her stuff when it came to dressing up. She’d expertly nailed the ‘look great but just slightly worse than the bride’ bit, which was particularly noticeable when compared to Eight and Marina, since—and Three meant no offense to Marina—Eight totally blew her out of the water.

Then again, Three might have been biased.

As they all reached the stage, Pearl and Marina couldn’t stop staring at each other. Marina whispered something under her breath, and Pearl whispered something back, adding a devious look. Marina blushed and giggled, Eight looked confused, and Four stuck out her tongue, smiling despite herself.

Captain Cuttlefish cleared his throat, and the four of them quickly stopped their nonsense to look at him. 

“Dearly beloved,” he began, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of two phenomenal women; women who truly love and deserve one another. Pearl and Marina are surrounded on all sides by love from their fans, their friends, and their family, but more powerful than all of that combined is the love they share for one another.

“The connection these two share is not something one has the honor of seeing every day. Rather, it is something special, something worthy of celebration. Off the Hook has moved so many through the power of their music, but Pearl and Marina have, perhaps, moved even more through the strength of their love. They certainly taught this old man a thing or two about the world, and my rapping has never been better since I met Pearl here.” He took a moment to chuckle to himself; off to the side, Three could hear the Squid Sisters groaning. 

“Our brides tonight are a pair of the most compassionate, selfless, and honorable women I have ever met, and as I look at all these people who love and care for them so passionately, and so sincerely, the only thing that surprises me is that this didn’t happen any sooner.”

The crowd laughed, and Marina rolled her eyes.

“Marina, Pearl; the two of you are about to enter into a lifelong bond built from the bricks your love for each other. The future ahead is as fraught with trouble as the past that rests behind us, but when two people dedicate themselves to one another, all storms can be weathered, provided you stay true to one another. As you speak your vows, do so with words, woven of trust, that flow from the soul.”

Marina nodded, then reached into her suit pocket, withdrawing a piece of paper and unfolding it in front of her. She took a deep breath, looked into Pearl’s eyes, and then back down at the paper.

“Pearl,” she began, her voice thick with emotion, “when I went to Mt. Nantai, all that time ago, I was lost. I was desperately searching for refuge, for someplace to call home. I was searching for a purpose. I was searching for a new life. And, well…” She paused to wipe at her eyes. “I must be really good at finding things, because I ran into you. Pearl, you—you  _ are _ my home. You’re my purpose, you’re my life. And so long as my hearts still pump blood, I promise that I’ll always be there at your side, to laugh with you and cry with you, to fix audio equipment you blow out and help you reach tall shelves, to ask you for fashion advice and drag you out of bed at two in the morning because I’ve got a new melody line and you just  _ have _ to hear it—for all of it. Because there’s nothing in this world I care more about than being with you, Pearl.”

“Well damn,” Pearl said, laughing a bit as she rubbed at her eyes. “Maybe I shoulda written something down after all. Well, here goes nothing.

“You know, after I proposed, my Mom asked me if it was love on first sight. I told her that she was insane; when I first saw you, I thought you were pretty weird. I mean, I was right, but it turns out that weird’s exactly what I need. Marina, you’re—I just really, really love you, okay? And I don’t know what I’d do without you. I could have the shittiest day in the world, my—my entire wedding could be completely ruined by some total jerk with a stick up his ass, but as soon as I see your smile, everything’s instantly perfect again. You know? And so I promise that I’ma do everything I can, now and forever, to make sure that you keep on smiling.” She turned to face the crowd. “And there ain’t no motherfucker in the world that can stop me, got it?!”

Craig gave Pearl a tired look, but Marina just smiled at her like she’d recited the most beautiful poetry ever written. Three caught a glimpse of Pearl’s mother wiping at her eyes, a look of pride on her face. “You tell ‘em, honey!” she called out.

Captain Cuttlefish coughed. “Thank you, ladies. Now, if the maid of honor would please present the rings.”

Eight looked at Four and raised an eyebrow. Four pointed at her and mouthed, ‘you.’ Eight raised her other eyebrow, pointed at herself, and mouthed, ‘me?’ Four nodded slowly, and Eight slapped a panicked hand against her pocket before sighing silently in relief and pulling out a small velvet box. 

She smiled sheepishly at Pearl and Marina as she walked up and opened the box, presenting the rings. The brides just smiled at her before plucking the rings from the box and taking turns sliding them onto each other’s fingers. 

Once the rings were on, Eight hurried back over to her spot behind Marina. “By the power granted to me by the city of Inkopolis,” Cuttlefish began, “I hereby pronounce you married. You may now kiss your wife.”

The ballroom erupted into applause as Pearl jumped up into Marina’s arms and their lips locked tight.

“Now,” Captain Cuttlefish said after giving them a minute to themselves, “who’s ready to party?”


	6. Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think that's all we really are, you know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go.

_ “Winyi weria, tyutterate sokamo, hyarihyari herahora fi nyi nyi!” _

Three maneuvered away from Callie and Marie’s performance, heading over to the concession table for a refill on cheap hotel lemonade. God, she could just never get enough of cheap hotel lemonade; it didn’t taste good at all, but something about it was just addictive.

Eight was standing by the concession table too, and was idling near the half-eaten wedding cake. She noticed Three and brightened, motioning her over.

“Three! I’m so glad to see you!”

“Yeah, you t—woah!”

Eight grabbed her by the shoulders and whipped her around, carefully adjusting her position. “I’m trying to sneak an extra piece of cake, but I can’t have Marina seeing. Just stand right there, don’t move, and act natural.”

“Um, okay,” Three said. Eight shot her one of her best smiles, then turned back to her mission. “I need to refill my lemonade though.”

“Just gimme a second.” Eight nervously glanced over towards where Pearl and Marina were dancing, then, with frightening speed, grabbed the knife and cut herself a slice of the cake in one clean, calculated motion. She nabbed a paper plate and slid it under the slice, then whipped out a plastic fork and began eating as quickly as possible.

“EIGHT!”

Marina’s voice cut across the room, and Eight’s eyes went wide. “Oh no! Three, help!”

Three immediately drew herself up to her full height, which meant Eight only had to crouch down a few inches to successfully hide behind her. She turned to face out from the concessions, and saw Marina storming over to them.

“Eight, did you just take another slice of cake?”

Eight made an audible gulping sound, then poked her head out over Three’s shoulder.

“No.”

“It’s true,” Three agreed. “You must be seeing things.”

“There’s frosting on your cheek,” Marina said.

_ “Sherauste.” _

“That could be from anything,” Three said quickly.

Marina rolled her eyes. “Eight, I  _ told _ you, we’ll give you a few slices to take home, but only  _ after _ the other guests have had a chance to—”

“Oh my god, Pearl just fell over!” Eight exclaimed, pointing over Marina’s shoulder.

“I’m not falling for that,” Marina said flatly.

“Oh, damn, that looks bad,” Three said, scrunching up her face. “Is that blood?”

“What?!” Marina swiveled around. “Pearlie!”

Three grabbed Eight’s hand and ran.

Marina’s distressed cries quickly turned outraged, but they were long gone, lost in the crowd of dancers. Eight quickly shoveled the rest of her cake into her mouth, then shamelessly wiped her lips on her extremely expensive suit.

“Mmm, that cake is  _ so good!” _ Eight moaned. “Thanks for the save, Three.”

“You better thank me. I gave up cheap hotel lemonade for you.”

“Aw,” Eight said, smiling. “That’s so sweet that you’d give up cheap hotel lemonade for me.”

“You bet,” Three said. “Anybody else, I’d just let Marina go loose on them.”

They looked at each other, then started giggling.

_ “Honyahirae nyu, runino wenenino, noni, weneno-o!” _

Eight held out her hand. “Want to dance?”

“You know I’m terrible at dancing.”

“Yeah,” Eight said. “But you’re good enough for me.”

Three rolled her eyes and smiled, taking her hand. “Alright, fine. But only because you’re cute.”

* * *

Four exited the bathroom and was on her way back to the reception when she was stopped by Meagan and Leo. They were staring at her with crossed arms and crosser expressions.

“Oh.” She blinked. “Uh, hey?”

“Hey,” Leo said flatly.

“So, now that we’ve finally got you alone,” Meagan began, “would you mind explaining what the  _ hell _ any of that shit earlier was about?”

“Oh, right,” Four said. “That. Thanks again for your help, by the way. You really stepped up to the occasion.”

Meagan’s expression didn’t change. “Explain. Now.”

“Didn’t I already tell you guys all of this? I’m a secret agent, along with Three and Eight and the Squid Sisters, and those guys were the Octarians, who lost the Great Turf War and are still really ticked about it.”

“That doesn’t explain anything!” Meagan protested.

“Yeah, you don’t just…  _ become _ a secret agent,” Leo said, throwing out a hand. “How long have you been keeping this hidden? Since high school?”

“What? No! It’s been less than a year. I only became an agent after the Great Zapfish went missing. Er, the second time.”

“Wait, you just…” Leo looked profoundly confused. “Did they choose you because you were a pro turfer or something?”

“Nah, Marie just kind of grabbed me off the street and was like, ‘hey, come with me,’ and then dragged me into a sewer grate. She told me I was just the first person she found, and that she got lucky.”

Meagan raised an eyebrow. “A sewer grate?” 

“Well, it wasn’t actually a sewer grate; how much do you know about spatial warping technology?”

“Excuse me?” Leo said.

Four rubbed at her temples. “Ugh. Look, can we just go back to the party now? I can explain this all to you whenever you want, but you guys only get a free ticket to Off the Hook’s wedding reception featuring a live performance by the Squid Sisters  _ once.” _

Meagan and Leo looked at each other.

“She’s got a point,” Leo said.

“Yeah. Let’s go back.”

“Oh thank god,” Four said, sighing. “Besides, if you want the full story, Three and Eight should be there as well. They went through this whole thing with an AI that wanted to kill everyone because we weren’t good enough as a species at, like, shooting 8-balls around magical floating platforms or something.”

“What?”   


“Yeah, I don’t really understand it all either. But what I  _ do _ understand is that I want some more of that cake before Eight eats it all.” Four pushed open the door to the ballroom just in time to see Eight running off with Three, a piece of cake held on a plate in front of her. “Shit. I gotta go. Catch you later.”

She ran off towards the concessions, leaving Meagan and Leo behind to… do whatever it is they do.

* * *

Three and Eight danced their way across the ballroom. Or, well, Eight danced; Three just kind of walked in rhythm. She did manage to pull off one of those things where you drop your partner and catch them before they fall, though, which had made Eight blush, so she was calling that a success. Eight had gotten her back with an unexpected twirl, though. Now, they were just swaying along to the music.

“I need a break,” Three said in between songs. Eight nodded and slowed to a stop, and they paused there in the middle of the dance floor, holding each other but not moving.

Eight smirked. “I’m surprised you can go turfing for eight hours straight, but get winded after a little dancing.”

“Eight, I got thrown through a wall today. Don’t forget the wall.”

“How can I?” Eight asked. “Those posters Pearl covered it with look so out of place.”

Three snickered. “Yeah.” She looked over at Eight. “You know, you look really good in a suit.”

“Thanks! Marina picked it out for me.”

“She did a good job.”

Suddenly, Four popped up next to them, taking a bite of cake. “Hey guys. What’s happening?”

“Wha—how did you get past Marina?!” Eight exclaimed, looking enviously at the cake. 

“I asked nicely,” Four said smugly, sliding another forkful into her mouth.

“No you didn’t! Liar!”

“I guess she just likes me more than you,” Four said, shrugging.

Eight frowned, looking down at Four with disdain. “I don’t know what you did to get your hands on that cake,” she whispered icily, “but you don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Four,” Three warned, “don’t test her. You’ll regret it.”

“I bet you bribed her,” Eight said. “I bet you promised her your firstborn.”

“That’d be a pretty crappy deal for her,” Four said. 

Three laughed.

They were interrupted by the screeching of a microphone, and looked up on the stage to see Pearl standing there, smirking, with Callie’s mic in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. “Heads up!” she shouted. It was the only warning she gave before she reared back her arm and hurled the bouquet into the crowd, eliciting a few whoops and hollers from the guests.

The flowers zoomed over the dance floor like an out of control jet plane, only to be halted suddenly by the firm grip of… 

Of Eight.

Three groaned and hung her head, even as Four started cackling.

“Sheesh, Pearl, what was that for?” Eight asked, holding up the bouquet. “You could’ve hit someone.”

Pearl was too busy trying not to laugh to answer. Three noticed that Marie behind her was making no such efforts, and was instead roaring with laughter, so she flipped her off. Four had now started elbowing her in the side and waggling her eyebrows, so Three flipped her off, too.

“Well,” Pearl said, her voice strained and her grin bordering on manic, “looks like we know who’s getting married next now! You know, thanks to that well-known cultural aspect of Inkling weddings, the bouquet toss!”

Eight blinked, then made an ‘o’ shape with her mouth, then looked over at Three (who returned her gaze with a look of utter cosmic resignation), then flushed a deep, deep red. “Ah. I see.”

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Four wheezed, clutching at her side. “Oh, she  _ totally _ aimed that!”

Three nervously looked around at all the eyes on them and buried her face in her hands. They were  _ never _ going to stop teasing her and Eight about this, she just  _ knew  _ it. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Four laughed louder.

* * *

The reception was winding down by now; Meagan and Leo had needed to dip out several minutes ago, and Pearl had just finished saying goodbye to her parents, who were the last guests to leave that hadn't been here during the fight earlier. Eight was privately quite glad that it was calming down; the wedding had been a lot of fun, but having so many unfamiliar people swirling around her had eventually grown to wear on her. She and Three had spent the past fifteen minutes or so talking quietly to each other in the corner.

“We should probably head out too,” Callie said. She and Marie had sung their last song of the night—the Inkantation, to nobody’s surprise—a while ago, and they looked a little bit exhausted. It had been kind of a long day, to be fair. “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

Marie nodded. “It’s idol stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I think I’d understand,” Pearl said.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Marie repeated.

“Congratulations again, you two!” Callie said, wholly ignoring her cousin. “This was a lot of fun.”

“Well, thank you for performing,” Marina countered. “I’m sure it doesn’t come as a surprise that I’ve been a big fan of yours even before I met you.”

“Most people are,” Marie said.

Callie elbowed her.

“Hey, would you girls mind taking Octavio back to the cabin?” Captain Cuttlefish spoke up. “I’ve got a spare snowglobe in the shed. It’d save an old man some hauling.”

“Sure thing, gramps,” Marie said.

“You know, you should really invest in a more secure holding cell than a snow globe,” Callie suggested.

“Eh.” Cuttlefish shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s good for him to really just let loose every once in a while. Forcing him to stop will just make him rebel more.”

“This is a war criminal we’re talking about, not a five year old throwing a tantrum,” Callie said.

“Trust me on this one, kids. We go way back. Roommates in college, you know!”

Callie and Marie exchanged a look. 

“Whatever,” Marie said finally. “Let’s jet.”

Eight watched as they slipped out the back way. She briefly heard a gruff voice shout out a slew of curse words, but it was quickly cut off in concert with the sound of a charger going off.

Well. That’s that on that, she supposed.

“Excuse me,” said a voice from the doorway. “Is this a bad time?”

Eight turned and saw a trio of Octolings standing in the doorway. She heard Three mumble something about locking doors under her breath.

“Sorry, but we’re not meeting with fans or press right now,” Marina said.

“We’re neither of those, actually,” said the boy in the front. “We need to speak with Eight. It’s important.”

“Uh, anybody know who these guys are?” Pearl ‘whispered’ to the rest of them.

“Wait, you’re that guy that talked with us after the tournament,” Four said.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Three said. “…Marble, was it?”

“Marcus,” Eight said. She remembered him now; he’d been nice!

Three shrugged. “Close enough.”

“Yes!” Marcus said. “Hello again! And this is Shianna and Kayla.” He gestured to the other two Octolings, who gave waves.

“Ah, Kayla!” said Captain Cuttlefish, walking forward and vigorously shaking her hand. “Yes, yes! I’ve wanted to meet with you, but never found the time. Captain Cuttlefish, New Squidbeak Splatoon. I hear you’ve been doing great work for the Octolings.”

“Oh! Thank you,” Kayla said. Then she turned to Eight. “But really, I’ve just been following in my commander’s footsteps.” 

Eight looked at Three, who just shrugged again.

“Do I… know you?” Eight asked.

“You don’t…” Kayla walked over to Eight, slowly. “Zadie, it’s me. Kayla. 02-B?”

Eight shook. “I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t—”

_ “So you’re my new squad, huh?” Eight said, sizing up the Octolings in front of her. “Who’s B?” _

_ “I am, ma’am,” the girl in front said. “02-B, at your service.” _

_ Eight nodded. “Specialty?” _

_ “Roller, ma’am.” _

_ “You any good with it?” _

_ “I got the highest marks in my class for combat ability, ma’am.” _

_ Eight smirked. “Do you think that if you had fought in the Great Turf War, you could’ve turned the tide?” _

_ “I—” she frowned. “No, ma’am. I’m one soldier.” _

_ “Well after I’m through with you, 02-B,” Eight said, “that answer’s gonna change.” _

“Eight! Eight, are you okay?”

Three. 

Eight felt her eyes refocus on Kayla’s face; felt the warmth of Three’s arms supporting her. She gently brushed Three off and stood back up, her head gradually slowing its spin. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“What happened?” Marina asked. She was also at Eight’s side now, though not as close as Three.

“Memory,” Eight said.

“It’s always like this,” Three explained. “She’ll just zone out for a while. It’s been happening more and more frequently.”

“Just bits and pieces though,” Eight added. “It’s more confusing than useful.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Kayla said, finally speaking up. Marcus and Shianne were watching with concern from a few feet behind her, but they were staying out of it. “What’s…?”

“Eight suffers from amnesia,” Marina said.

“Oh.” Kayla looked incredibly sad. No, wait; she looked  _ forlorn. _ That was really the only proper word to describe it. “So… you don’t remember me?”

“I remember that you were my second in command. Or something.” Eight sighed. “And that you’re good with a roller. But that’s it.”

“I see,” Kayla said. Forlornly.

“What did you call me, though?” Eight said. “You said a name.”

“Zadie,” Kayla said. “Your name is Zadie.”

The room went silent, and Eight could feel every pair of eyes in the room centered on her.

She crossed her arms. “I don’t like it.”

Three put her hand up to her face and shook her head, smiling fondly. Marina gave her the same look she had given her when Eight had once said, in a fit of rage against her laptop, that technology was stupid. Four was very clearly trying not to laugh. Pearl just looked confused. Captain Cuttlefish’s face was completely unreadable, as always. And Kayla was just staring at her, her mouth slightly open, frozen.

Eight shrugged. “I don’t like it,” she repeated.

Kayla’s mouth morphed into a grin, and before Eight knew it, she was laughing into Eight’s chest. Crying, too, it looked like.

“Whaaaat’s going on?” Pearl asked.

“Oh, Zadie,” Kayla said through her laughter. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

* * *

A few minutes later, they were all seated in a circle on the floor, listening raptly to Kayla. The more Eight looked at her, the more familiar she seemed; but no more memories were surfacing, even as she recounted her tale.

“I’ll start from the first time our hypnosis broke,” Kayla began. “When we first heard the Calamari Inkantation, the Octarians who were in charge during DJ Octavio’s absence had no idea it had freed our minds. It was a brand new experience for us, having free will and all, so it was a little overwhelming. We didn’t know how we should react. There were some that rebelled against the administration; Squad F-04, most notably, acted out, and they were… punished. Harshly. Others tried to escape, such as Marina here. But after she and a scarce few others were successful in getting out, the Octarians grew much stricter. 

“Throughout all of this, you, Eight, had been organizing a rebellion amongst the remaining front-ops squadrons. We kept it underground for two years, until finally we were sent on a mission together along with a large Octarian force with the goal to rescue DJ Octavio. A few minutes into the raid on Tentakeel Outpost, we switched ink colors and turned on the Octarians. Unfortunately, we hadn’t counted on DJ Octavio being able to free himself.”

“Yeah, he does that,” Three interjected.

“Shh!” Four hissed, hitting her on the shoulder.

“With his help, the Octarians were able to succeed,” Kayla continued. “In the end, all we managed to accomplish was causing enough mayhem for Agent 2 to avoid capture.”

“Then you are to thank for Agent 4’s victory,” Captain Cuttlefish said. “It may not seem like much, but if Agent 2 had been captured along with Agent 1, then recovering the Great Zapfish would have been a much more monumental task than it was.”

“Well don’t thank me,” Kayla said with a smile. “It was all Zadie. Er, Eight. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Eight assured.

“Anyway. When our rebellion failed, DJ Octavio realized what had happened, and rehypnotized us all. Except you, Eight. You just… vanished.”

“When I was fighting with Octavio earlier, he said that he’d sent me off to go fight Three,” Eight said. “To get rid of at least one of us.”

“And that’s why you were in the Ravine,” Three concluded. “Wait, so you were just hypnotized after all! Man, and you went through that whole identity crisis bullshit and everything.”

Eight sighed. “Yep.”

“Wait, hold up,” Shianne said. “When did you fight DJ Octavio?”

“Like, a few hours ago, maybe?” Four said.

“Yeah, he crashed our wedding and everything, the jerk,” Pearl said. “It was, like, a whole thing.”

“I got thrown through a wall,” Three said. You know, with how much she kept bringing it up, Eight was beginning to suspect Three was  _ proud _ of being thrown through the wall.

“It all worked out in the end, though,” Marina assured. 

“That’s insane,” Marcus said.

“I’m sorry,” Kayla said. “I wish I had been there to help.”

“We handled it,” Three said with a wave of her hand. “Anyway, I don’t think you were done with your story?”

“Of course,” Kayla said. “Well, the next thing that happened was Ms. Lothamer’s raid on the HQ, and the second time the Calamari Inkantation was played. The… ‘spicy’ version, I believe? Unfortunately, while DJ Octavio seems perfectly happy making the same mistake twice, his Octarian underlings proved to be a bit sharper. As soon as the agents had cleared out, they set about rounding up all the Octolings for rehypnotization before they could escape. Fortunately, a few Octolings were able to escape in the chaos, myself included. We hid in various locations until the heat to die down, and then I started this little underground liberation operation I have going. Ever since, I’ve been helping to break Octolings like Marcus and Shianne here out of the Domes and give them a place to live here in Inkopolis.”

“And that’s about it,” Marcus finished.

“Thanks,” Eight said. “For telling me.”

“My pleasure, Eight.”

“And…” Eight rubbed her arm. “I know it might be awkward, considering the circumstances, but if we were friends before, I'm sure we can be friends again.”

“I loved getting to know Zadie over those two years,” Kayla said with a smile. “I'd love nothing more than to get to know Eight in the same way.”

“Cool,” Eight said, returning their grin. 

Three coughed. “Just… not sure if you know this, but I am dating her already. Not that that's what you were going for or anything, just. You know, to avoid confusion. Just thought I'd mention it.”

“Three, shut up,” Eight said.

Kayla laughed. “It's alright, but, yes, I was informed.”

“Okay sweet,” Three said. “Just ignore me then.”

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Pearl said, picking herself up off the ground, “but I’m hella beat. And since it’s, like, my wedding, I think that means you guys need to leave?”

“Fair enough,” Four said.

“Cool.” Pearl put her hands on her hips and looked around the room. “How are we dividing up the rest of the cake again?”

“CAN I HAVE IT?” Eight asked, jumping up and grabbing Pearl by the shoulders.

“Eight, it  _ is _ their wedding cake,” Three said.

Eight looked over her shoulder and hissed.  _ “Betrayal!” _

Three put her hands up in surrender and backed out of the conversation. Good Three.

“You can have  _ some _ of the cake,” Marina said, looking stern.

“Pleeeaaaase?”

Marina’s mouth, previously a stoic, firm line, began to wobble. “…Fine, you can have the cake. We’ll just get another on our honeymoon.”

“In between all the hot sex,” Pearl added, becuase she was Like That.

“Yes!” Eight said. She hugged Marina, pretended not to see the little fist pump Three did, and then ran over to the cake, putting the little plastic cover over it. “Alright. See you guys later!”

They all exchanged goodbyes, Three made sure to actually get the Octolings’ phone numbers, and then before they knew it, they were in Three’s car, driving out towards her apartment complex. They went the whole ride in a lovely sort of silence, enjoying the peace of their thoughts, and the comfort of each other’s company.

Eight couldn’t help but think about the bouquet she’d caught, and what it had apparently meant. (She was still mad at Pearl for that, but she’d stolen her cake, so maybe they were even.) Eight looked over at Three, who was watching the road with the ghost of a smile lining her face, and decided that, for now, she would just enjoy things as they were. After everything that had happened today, she could feel some sort of tranquility deep within her hearts, instead of the deep-rooted anxiety that had been plaguing her ever since she’d woken up down in the station without her memory. 

Even if she didn’t have her memories back, she knew who she was, now. And she…

She was Eight.

She was Eight, and Three was Three, and they loved each other. And that was plenty good enough for her.

* * *

When Three woke up for the third time that night, it was to an empty bed. Looks like she wasn’t the only one struggling to fall asleep.

Rubbing her eyes, she hopped out of bed and walked out of the apartment. There was no sign of Eight, except for a plate on the kitchen counter that was sprinkled with cake crumbs, and the fact that the front door was unlocked. Three smiled; with all that sugar, Eight would  _ never _ get back to sleep.

She slipped out of her apartment and began climbing up the main staircase, all the way to the very top, past the ‘no entry’ sign. She pushed open the roof exit of the apartment building, and sure enough, there was Eight, sitting on the building’s precipice and staring out at the night sky like it was full of secrets. 

“What are you doing up here?” Three asked softly, sitting down next to her and laying her hand overtop of Eight’s. She let her bare feet dangle over the edge of the roof, let them swing back and forth to the rhythm of their pulses. 

“Thinking,” Eight said. “Can't sleep.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Three leaned against her, her head slotting into the space between Eight’s ear and shoulder. It had always been a rough, perfect fit. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” Eight answered, wrapping an arm around her. “And serendipity.”

“Marina teach you that one?”

“Sure wasn't Pearl.”

Three snorted. 

They sat there for a while, staring up at the stars. The night air was cold, but they were not. 

“I slept up here once,” Three said after a minute, or an hour, or whatever. “On my first day in Inkopolis. Didn't have my apartment yet or anything, so I slept up here on the roof.”

“Sounds uncomfortable.”

“It was. I was cold. And alone. And I was itching in so many places the next morning.”

“I had to sleep on the train seats down in the metro.”

“Yeah? How was that?”

“Uncomfortable. I was cold. And alone.”

“Aw, don't say that,” Three said, shifting her weight towards Eight just a smidgen. “You had Gramps down there to keep you company, right?”

“True. Him and all his wisdom from the good old days,” she joked. “It's astounding how much he can remember. How many stories.”

“Yeah.”

“I think that's all we really are, you know? Just stories.” She laughed, and shook her head. “What am I even saying? I think I need to go to bed.”

“No, I get it,” Three said. “Sometimes I think about my life back in Seasponge County, or two years ago when I moved here, or… I don't know, last week when I went grocery shopping. And it all feels so distant. Just pages in a book.”

Eight nodded. “Just stories.”

“Just stories.”

Three watched the headlights of a car roam through the city, far away from them. She traced patterns across the streets with her eyes. 

“You're my favorite character,” Eight said. 

Three laughed, and they rocked against each other, back and forth on the rooftop. “You're so cheesy. You're my favorite character, too.” Three snuggled closer to Eight. “You know, it doesn't feel like I was fighting for my life today.”

“It really doesn't,” Eight said. “I think I was more scared when I'd thought I'd lost the rings than when I was facing down Octavio.”

“Exactly,” Three said. “Like, when I think about the most frightening moments of my life, I don't think about today, or about Kamabo, or about Octo Valley. I think about… asking you out. I think about seeing you at the museum after you hadn't talked to me for days. I think about the first night we had sex.”

“I think about that night a lot.”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I'm getting at.”

“Yeah, I do,” she admitted. “It's funny like that, isn't it?”

“I think it's because my story isn't about Octavio, or being an agent. It's about meeting you.”

“Now who's the cheesy one?”

“I'm serious!” Three insisted. “All that shit I went through as a kid, agreeing to save the Great Zapfish on a whim, bouncing from job to job, running from my identity—just, everything, all of my stories, they all—they all feel like  _ setup.  _ Just to lead me to you.”

“Serendipity,” Eight said.

“Serendipity,” Three agreed. 

“We should probably go back in.”

“Probably.”

Half an hour later, Three had memorized the constellations, and memorized the way Eight’s fingers intertwined with her own. Her feet continued to swing in the open air, back and forth, back and forth, and the headlights that cut though the night followed all the same streets that she'd outlined for them ages ago. 

“What are you thinking about?” Eight asked. 

“You,” Three answered, pulling her tight. “And stories.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys? Thank you so much for reading. I got really emotional writing that last scene; I'm humbled that you all chose to come on this journey with me, and share in my world of squid romance. This series has done better than I ever expected, and I've made some great friends along the way. Every kudo and every comment and every anonymous ask on my tumblr about random shit means so much to me, I can't thank you all enough.
> 
> Anyway. This chapter marks the end of the story of Eight and Three, but not the end of the series: there's one more story I'll be posting, this time about the beginning of the story of Eight and Three. It'll be a prequel, it will probably be the longest work in the series, and it will come out at some unknown time in the future. It'll probably be a couple months; I wanted to complete this fic before I start college next week (oh god) and so I pushed out double updates, which kind of ate up my backlog. But it is on its way, and I think there's some good stuff in there, so stay tuned!
> 
> Thanks one last time, everyone. I couldn't do it without you! Stay fresh!


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